I’ve always read like I’m gathering—hunting for fragments, collecting phrases, letting my attention dart between close reading and scanning. The internet has only intensified that rhythm. I believe it is pulling us toward nonlinear narratives whether we want them or not. My text-based works live in that tension. They draw on traditions like concrete poetry, kinetic typography, and the cut-up method of Burroughs and Gysin—treating language not as fixed meaning, but as material to be rearranged, abstracted, and set into motion.

In my tools, built with Processing, letters become blocks, words become textures, and phrases dissolve into shifting layers of opacity and motion. Sometimes the result is legible; sometimes it’s pure pattern. I think of it as information architecture pushed to the point where it becomes choreography—tight formal systems that still allow for surprise. This isn’t typography for branding or clarity. It’s language in flux: aphorisms colliding, text masking video or image, shapes misaligning and realigning. It’s an exploration of how we read when words refuse to sit still.