Velvet Abyss

What pieces or projects have you been working on lately?
I’ve been focusing on transforming my work into physical publications. One project is fully shot and won’t appear on Instagram before it exists as an object. It’s very personal and creates a quiet bridge between my photography and architecture, which is my main profession. I’m interested in how images can inhabit space, how sequences are built, and how a book can function almost like a structure—something you enter rather than scroll through.

What did you learn (or unlearn) while working on them?
I’m learning to let go of perfectionism and to focus on finishing. I recently learned that the word perfect comes from the Latin perfectus, meaning finished or completed, not flawless.

Creating a book often requires letting the ego soften, even “die” a little, and making choices without knowing if they’re right. Sometimes you only understand a decision after you’ve made it.

What words, ideas or emotions were going through your head?
A few months ago, while doing some inner work and rethinking my relationship to self-reflection, I realized I was no longer aligned with parts of my photography practice—not because of a loss of interest, but because my focus had shifted. At first, there was an unsettling question: what if all this work was in vain?

Much of what I made no longer represents where I am. This pushed me to rethink how that work can be shown, or reframed, in a way that feels honest now. It’s challenging, but also clarifying.

Were there any conversations, movies, music, or books that made their way into that work?
Le Mépris, especially its scenic, architectural landscapes enveloped in emotional and sensual tension. That contrast between structure and feeling has stayed with me.

What's been the most difficult thing you've faced recently in your creative process?
The gap between where I am now and where I’d like to be. Accepting that it’s okay if it takes time; everyone has their own timeline, and I’m learning to trust mine.

What is your favorite restaurant and what do you recommend we order?
A good old vegetarian buffet. It may not sound fancy, but there’s nothing quite like the luxury of choice and the pleasure of curating your own plate.

If your life were a movie this month, what would it be called and who would write the soundtrack?
The film would be called Velvet Abyss. The soundtrack would be an intentionally fractured mix: one track full of tenderness, the other heavy, textured, and almost disorienting… something you’d hear on NTS at 2 a.m., where contrast is the point.

Which studios, laboratories, or workshops have you collaborated with recently or would you like to collaborate with in the future?
I’m drawn to small, independent studios and publishers that value process and dialogue over speed—places that aren’t afraid to take risks rather than chasing algorithmic trends. More meaningful art, less saturated noise.

Recommend one or more artists you follow who inspire you, and tell us what you like most about their work or their way of working.
Myia Ando is a constant source of inspiration. I’m drawn to the quiet precision of her work and the way she treats images as objects of contemplation rather than consumption. Her practice feels deeply intentional, grounded in ritual, repetition, and patience.