Architecture
Two distinct projects, presented here as one body of work: both concerned with structures that mean something beyond their function. One reaches back through mythology to reclaim the wonder in buildings built with conviction. The other looks forward, imagining towers designed for sun and ocean as beacons at the edge of ordinary time.
Mythological Architecture
Buildings speak before we listen. Their mass, proportion, and intention carry a personality that arrives before any knowledge of who built them or why — something felt in the way late afternoon light crosses concrete, or in the way a structure asserts itself against the sky.
I'm drawn especially to architecture built with conviction: the civic and institutional modernism of the 1960s and 70s, the utopian ambitions of mid-century European modernism. These were never merely functional buildings. They were secular temples — constructed to embody a belief about what human life could become. That many now feel imposing, melancholy, or unresolved doesn't diminish them. It deepens them.
The People's Institute of the Cyclopes
The Ministry of Achlys
The Stables of Astraea
The Temple of Miranda
The Temple of Miranda II
The Ministry of the Sorrow of Daphnis
The Prisons of Nomos
The People's Institute of Meneotes
The Ministry of Theia
The Ministry of Proteus
The Tower of Hypnus
The Den of Cerberus
The People's Institute of Enyo
The Ministry of Hyperion
Beach Towers
On an empty beach, they rise like something from a half-remembered story — monolithic, repetitive, built entirely around the promise of sun and ocean. These towers were designed with a singular purpose: to orient every room, every balcony, every sight line toward the horizon. That clarity of intention is part of what draws me to them.
But I find myself returning to a particular daydream. A few centuries from now, something has emptied these buildings and the beaches around them. A traveler arrives — having heard of this place only in stories — and finds it still standing. Not a destination anymore, but a beacon. A sanctuary of repose at the edge of the world. A place that exists outside ordinary time, where the original purpose has dissolved and only the presence remains.
That slightly otherworldly quality already lives in these structures if the light and the moment are right. My work amplifies it — sometimes toward something vivid and dreamlike, sometimes toward something brooding and solitary — depending on what the image calls for. The towers remain what they always were. The world around them is mine to set.
Beach Tower I
Beach Tower II
Beach Tower III
Beach Tower IV
Beach Towers V
Beach Towers VI