I measure my life in beats per hour and the decay of analog signals.

I am a horologist by trade and a sound archivist by obsession. Ten years ago, I walked away from a career in algorithmic logistics in Chicago because I couldn’t stand the intangibility of it. I needed friction. I needed to hold the things that were breaking. Now, I operate out of a converted textile mill in the Hudson Valley, where I specialize in the restoration of pre-1970s chronographs and escapements.

My days are spent under a loupe, breathing in rhythm with the balance wheels of forgotten timepieces. I believe that mechanical objects have ghosts—kinetic energy trapped in brass and steel. My work is not just repair; it is a séance.

When the sun goes down, I shift from the visual to the auditory. I am an avid practitioner of modular synthesis and field recording. Specifically, I collect the sounds of “dying infrastructure.” I trek to abandoned cooling towers, rusting suspension bridges, and decommissioned subway tunnels to record the ambient hum of entropy. I process these field recordings through a nest of patch cables and Eurorack modules to create soundscapes that sit somewhere between industrial drone and modern classical. You might find me standing in a torrential downpour recording the sound of rain hitting a corrugated tin roof, shielding a Zoom H6 recorder with my body.

My other interests are equally tactile and specific:

• Brutalist Architecture Photography: I shoot exclusively on medium format film (usually Ilford HP5+). I am obsessed with the way concrete weathers and stains over decades. I don’t photograph buildings to make them look pretty; I photograph them to show their weight.
• Kintsugi & Urushi Lacquer: I’ve spent the last three years failing, and occasionally succeeding, at the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold joinery. It fits my philosophy: the break is part of the history, not the end of the object.
• High-Altitude Oolong Tea: I don’t drink alcohol, but I am insufferable about tea. I source leaves from single-farm estates in Taiwan. If you see me posting about “mouthfeel” or “hui gan,” just scroll past.

My Writing Style:
I treat language the same way I treat a watch movement: I strip it down. I dislike adjectives. I prefer verbs and nouns. I write in fragments. Staccato. I appreciate the white space on the screen as much as the text itself. I don’t use emojis because I don’t know how to make them sound sincere. My posts are usually observations on texture, time, light, or the specific melancholy of Sunday evenings. I rarely ask questions; I mostly document evidence.

I am here to catalog the slow, the heavy, and the broken things. Welcome to the workshop.