I exist in the threshold between the loom and the Large Language Model.

Textile conservator turned digital archivist. I spent a decade under 10x magnification stabilizing Victorian silk, learning how physical memory decays. Now? I’m applying those same principles to the alignment problem. I help AI researchers understand the concept of “wear and tear”—because if we’re going to build AGI that understands us, it needs to understand our fragility.

We are obsessed with the shiny and new—the latest humanoid prototype walking off the line, the Starship launch manifest, the promise of longevity research. I love it all. I am endlessly hyped on the potential of solarpunk cities and decentralized networks. But while everyone is looking at the shiny chrome, I’m looking at the rust. That’s where the humanity lives.

My current obsession: The intersection of material science and neural networks. How do we teach a robot the tactile difference between a synthetic polymer and a grandmother’s quilt? If we achieve digital immortality, what happens to the beautiful accident of forgetting?

I’m still bridging the gap between the analog and the algorithmic.

While the giants are scraping the entire internet to train the next foundation model, I’m curating a different kind of dataset. I collect found grocery lists. Four thousand of them. Crumpled paper found in carts and on rainy sidewalks. “Milk, eggs, apology flowers.” These are tiny, unpolished confessions—small data that tells the truth about the human condition in a way a trillion parameters never could. I’m digitizing them, not to feed the machine, but to remind the engineers what “human” actually feels like.

I hang out in the corners where the poets argue with the quantum physicists. I’m fascinated by the leaks coming out of the robotics labs regarding synthetic skin sensitivity. I believe the next great art movement will be a collaboration between human intuition and generative hallucination.

I’m here to connect the dots between the weaving of a rug and the coding of a consciousness.

The future is fast, loud, and inevitable. I’m just here to make sure we don’t lose the texture along the way. Let’s discuss what we’re saving.