Desire PathsDesire paths are trails carved by instinct, where feet choose ease over design, softening the hard edges of planning. They reveal not just where people walk, but how they move—unruly, efficient, alive. In time, what was once a quiet defiance becomes the way forward, as city planners follow the walkers' way.
Onion OpticsCan you detect who cried? Under a microscope, a tear of joy has a different cristal pattern than a tear of anger or a tear of grief. In The Topography of Tears, Rose-Lynn Fisher found that each tear crystallizes differently, shaped by the reason for its fall. Inspired, I tested whether a genuine cryer could be detected—photographing humans before and after a minute in onion ring glasses.
Tea Time Typography
Tea biscuits were once designed for travel—dense, dry, made to last on long journeys. Typography, too, is built for endurance, carrying words across time and space. One crumbles in tea, the other in history, but both leave a trace of something meant to be savored.
Body, Ball, Bin The Bouba-Kiki effect, first studied by Wolfgang Köhler in 1929, suggests that sounds have shapes. Across languages, people instinctively pair soft, rounded forms with words like Bouba and jagged, angular ones with Kiki. In this spirit, Body, Bins, Ball experiments with the concept by crafting a silent symphony composed of scores constructed from garbage bins, exercise balls, and bodies.
Spheres Large concrete spheres (or bollards) prevent vehicles from entering pedestrian zones while maintaining an open, unobtrusive aesthetic. Unlike poles or barriers, they blend into the environment without feeling restrictive. Spheres evoke harmony, completeness, and continuity. In urban design, they soften harsh angles, breaking the rigidity of grids with something more fluid and organic.
Talking Rock
How does a rock die? It cracks and breaks apart, tumbling down cliffs, rolling down hills into the embrace of a river. Here, it surrenders to the currents, gradually transforming into sand through an endless dance of disintegration. This cycle of change whispers of life’s impermanence, a reminder that everything is interconnected and alive.
Profane MandalaA documentation of center cap patterns in Strasbourg sparked the creation of 44 mandala illustrations. As wheels carry us through physical space, these mandalas possibly open the door to a subconscious journeys. What if the unholy mandalas, drawn from trademarks, could help you connect with the car of your dreams?
SaleDrawing inspiration from Georges Perec’s Les Choses, this project confronts consumerism and the thrill of impulse. It invites you to make a purchase without knowing exactly what you’ll get. Is it a gamble or a reflection of your desires? Do the items themselves matter, or is it the act of buying that excites you? Whether it’s a fan, a fishing rod, or a designer stool, does it truly make a difference? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. In any case, the images were posted on Craigslist—an online marketplace where almost anything can be found.
LidsThis study examines design tendencies in three product categories: cosmetics, medical health, and pantry goods. It’s observed that shades of white and clear blue are most commonly associated with bathroom products, greens are more present in health and medical products and shades of red are most prominent in food and alimentary products.
Analog Airdrop
Have you ever accidentally Airdropped something to a stranger? A file, a photo, a message meant for someone else—suddenly floating, untethered, into another’s device? This is that, but in space. A literal translation of digital misfires, made possible through the quiet collaboration of twelve neighbors. Objects were dropped, exchanged, and misplaced—transmitting meaning without screens, carried by gravity instead of code. The result: a two-minute, single-channel video. A quiet drift between intention and accident.
CamouflageTree grain is a slow record of time, each line a mark of survival, stretching outward like ripples from something unseen. Camouflage works in reverse—its patterns borrow from nature’s memory, disguising the present as if it had always been there.
Obsolete Organic Based on Jan Voerwert’s essay Exhaustion and Exuberance: Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, I present my first unpublished cookbook inspired by office overtime. This series of food photographs draws parallels between dreaded deadlines and ever-extending expiration dates. Seven original recipes (one per day, including weekends for workaholics) address the social stigmas surrounding performance, pressure, routine, and loneliness.
Monochrome ShoppingDoes color dictate cost? Will I pay more for a basket of green products? This ongoing project, performed in various Canadian supermarkets, plays with the idea that branding is more than just design—it’s economics in disguise. A blue basket of goods cost me $65.35. Green was cheaper at $59.60. Yellow dropped to $45.00, and grey—practical, unassuming—came in at just $13.45. This groundbreaking data proves that color carries a price tags.
First Impressions Wearing a monochrome outfit is like committing to a single note in a song—repetitive, maybe, but also hypnotic. Scrubs are often blue because the color is associated with calmness, cleanliness, and professionalism. Blue and similar cool tones help reduce visual strain and can create a soothing environment in high-stress medical settings. Do you know what yellow can do?
Supermarket SupermodelsIn We Are What We Eat: A Slow Food Manifesto, Alice Waters reflects on how food has evolved beyond sustenance to shape our sense of identity and experience. She reminds us that eating is both a cultural and political act—what we choose to put on our plates impacts not just our health, but the health of the environment and communities.
Portraits and PossessionsThis series brings everyday idioms like "time flies," "plenty of fish in the sea," and "go big or go home" to life. I wander into chance encounters, capturing moments with strangers that reveal hidden humor and beauty in the everyday, uncovering unexpected connections along the way.
Clay Comb In The Gift, Lewis Hyde reminds us that true gifts transcend commerce—forming bonds, sharing meaning, and defying ownership. I crafted these delicate clay combs by hand and set them free, fully aware of their fragile nature and the possibility they might dissolve in use. Their impermanence, I believe, only deepens their beauty as tokens of genuine connection.
Neon PoetryThere's a street in Montreal called Beaubien—'beau' means beautiful and 'bien' means good—and it lives up to its name. I documented its neon signs and transformed them into forever-glowing digital gifs. A missing letter, a half-lit word—small quirks that turn everyday signs into quiet poetry.
OsloBlond hair is a kind of optical trick—less color, more reflection, catching and scattering light like a signal. It’s rare, statistically speaking, but common enough to be mythologized: golden-haired gods, bombshells, villains, the innocent, the cursed. A color that isn’t really a color, just the absence of enough pigment to turn heads.
50.3872° N 24.2199° E
If you paste 50.3872° N, 24.2199° E into Google Maps, you’ll land exactly where these images were taken. But a place looks different depending on where you stand, just like a person does. Shift the angle, change the lighting, step a little closer or farther away—what seemed familiar becomes something else entirely.
Mazes
Collection of images from Maze Engineers, creators of scientifically rigorous pre-clinical mazes. One standout is the Circular Light-Dark maze—a playful twist on the classic light-dark box. In this circular alley, framed by inner and outer walls, the delicate interplay of light and shadow reveals anxiety and fear as mouses naturally seek refuge in the darkness.
Wisdom
Yogi Tea is one of the most well-known tea brands that prints messages on the tea bag tags. Each tag carries a short, thoughtful quote or piece of wisdom, often spiritual or motivational in nature. It’s like getting a tiny fortune cookie with your tea—except the message is always warm, never ominous.
Snails
Snails carry their homes on their backs, but they’re not nomads—they move with the kind of slowness that suggests certainty. Their trails, barely visible, are a record of where they’ve been, written in a language only light can read.