Works

A forest of breath and friction shivers beneath signals the ear can sense but never quite hold.

Five trajectories graze, interrupt and haunt one another; even silence arrives carrying unfinished momentum.

A pitchless rupture leaves bubbles, spectral haze and dry points suspended between two bodies and their electronic double.

Sorabji-like keyboard excess and bodily dance rhythm bleed across a boundary neither world can absorb.

One spontaneous piano trace is cut open, multiplied and made to answer itself from altered acoustic distances.

Three obstinate voices meet, separate and return, each capable of inhabiting acoustic or electronic flesh.

Familiar figures return like afterimages, each recurrence bending the silence around it and making memory newly unstable.

The ensemble coils around a footing it never secures, shedding identities as pulse slips sideways into elastic air.

A single violin grows many nervous systems: curling lines erupt, shiver and dissolve into changing bow colour.

The quartet remembers itself in reverse, then traverses its own history again as if time were inhaling and exhaling.

The orchestra behaves like volatile matter, forever searching for equilibrium and transforming at the instant it finds it.

Across imagined leaves, harpsichord gestures are inscribed, scraped away and allowed to survive as palimpsestic residue.

Delicate metallic vibrations breathe in separate clocks until darker bodies puncture their weightless field.

A thought-form slips from whisper to ritual, gathers impossible weight and leaves only scratch, breath and residue.

A barefoot mind crosses snow towards a factory of thought, while language fractures into breath, echo and choral blizzard.

Five brass bodies lock, splinter and flare, then release their shared pressure one player at a time.

At the threshold of audibility, two pianos pursue a common ending through shimmer, recurrence and impossible synchrony.

Two vibraphones wait through eleven repeating chambers until suspended time becomes an immense whirlpool of resonance.

A recorder body crosses its own membrane, encounters an eccentric centre and bursts out as an unreproducible whirlwind.

Breath, reed and struck resonance repeatedly discover—and lose—the same line before plainchant disappears into mist.

The cello falls from an almost invisible height, widening towards maximum friction and exposure on its lowest string.

Different ways of feeling pulse surface inside one current: incisive fragments recede and a softer groove becomes newly audible.

Seven days of incompatible orchestral matter are compelled to coexist, revealing the unstable body that would become Tulpa.

Violin sustain and harpsichord decay breathe through one another as registrations continually alter the line’s distance and grain.

Before pitch settles, a melody is excavated from tailpiece, sympathetic buzz, overlapping registers and a final residual pluck.

In two compressed minutes, violin and cello chase each other through explosion, lyric suspension and a cadence that cannot quite stop the story.

Heat repeatedly thins into exposure until a clockwork surface continues without slowing, fading as though its machinery has simply run down.

A cello line passes through three bodies, returning as turbulence, interruption and altered character while never escaping its source.

The trio makes attention audible: thought-frames form, intrusive pitches seize them and every return arrives psychologically altered.

Clipped cells, resonant bells and near-unbroken motion linger so long that movement itself hardens into stasis.