Design That Breathes And Remembers You

Not everything we feel has a shape. But I try to give it one anyway. I’ve always been drawn to what can’t be seen: breath, emotion, memory, tension, the way time folds around us when we’re unsure of what’s next. As a motion and systems designer, I don’t just make things move—I make them respond. React. Remember.

My work isn’t about spectacle. It’s about presence. It listens. It shifts when you do. It breathes. In Synthetic Nature, I built a living ecosystem of digital creatures that evolve in response to your breath and movement. These organisms aren’t animated—they’re alive, in a way. They twitch, grow, stretch, and recede depending on your nearness.

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What began as an exploration of environmental input and generative typography became something more personal: a portrait of emotional proximity. What does it mean to be here? To feel seen, not through image, but through interaction? That question followed me into Forensic Architecture, a speculative rebranding project that reimagines how truth is visualized. Inspired by the real-life work of the research agency that investigates state violence and human rights abuses through spatial evidence, I built an identity system that moves like the cases themselves: layered, fragmented, slowly coming into focus. The system becomes a living archive—one that refuses stillness. Because when truth is buried or manipulated, clarity doesn’t come all at once. It reveals itself in motion.

In APRES, a quiet animation rooted in Chinese aesthetics, I leaned into softness. The project explores transformation and emotional resilience—not as grand gestures, but as gentle, necessary deconstruction. The transitions are fluid; the textures are organic. It’s an ode to impermanence. To the feeling of dissolving just enough to become someone new.

What ties all of these together isn’t a medium or a tool—it’s an obsession with systems. Emotional ones. Social ones. Invisible ones.

I want my work to feel like stepping into a moment that’s already breathing without you—but shifts as soon as you arrive.

Some of the systems I build are interactive. Others are metaphorical. But all of them ask the same question:
How do we make the unseen felt?
Design, for me, is not just about clarity or beauty—it’s about mystery. Atmosphere. Feeling.

I don’t want my work to tell you what to feel. I want it to sit with you, like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.