Absolutely, yes, it’s a feeling I know very well. That sense of drifting slightly out of sync with the world around you, I think many of us carry that quietly. Translating it into a visual series felt very natural because my work has always been about trying to give shape to emotions that are hard to put into words. Monachopsis is really about capturing those moments when you feel both here and elsewhere, kinda like looking through a window into a life that could have been yours, or isn’t quite yours anymore.

For me, it starts with intuition, I rely a lot on it for my creative process. I’m always chasing a certain feeling, a kind of visual “itch” that needs to be scratched. I love layering textures, reflections, overlays, it’s almost like building a visual echo. The combination of photography, AI and animation allow me to create images that feel familiar and strange at the same time. That tension comes from overlaying elements that shouldn’t quite fit, but somehow do.

She’s a little bit of all three I think. Sometimes she can be an alter ego as a way of expressing emotions I find difficult to externalize. Sometimes a muse: an embodiment of mystery, longing, or nostalgia. And often she’s a symbol: of memory, of a parallel life, of inner states. I love the ambiguity she brings, she invites the viewer to project their own narrative onto her.

What resonates in my art is that subtle melancholy, but this time in "Monachopsis" I feel like it's the surreal part that takes the lead. What remains unheard has to be left unheard

Oh, there's a lot! David Lynch is a huge influence, he has that ability to make the everyday feel uncanny. But also Wong Kar-wai too, with his way of capturing feelings through light and color. Photographically, I admire Saul Leiter and Sarah Moon, they're both masters of layering and atmosphere. Musically, I draw a lot from ambient and synth-heavy sounds, artists like Ruby Haunt, Chromatics, or the soundtracks of Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross. I often build playlists to match the mood of my next series, music is a big part of how I get into the emotional space of an image.

I love that idea, I think yes, in many ways. My work often feels like trying to hold onto a fleeting moment, or a memory that’s already slipping away. It’s about suspending time, or rewriting it, creating images that feel like stills from an imaginary film, or fragments of a dream. I think art is a way to slow down and pay attention to the ephemeral, to moments that might otherwise go unnoticed.

I start from a very personal place: my own feelings, dreams, memories. But I always aim to leave enough space for the viewer to interpret the works in their own way. I think the more honest you are about your own experience, the more it resonates universally. With Monachopsis, I wanted to tap into that shared sense of displacement and surreal feeling, something that connects us across different lives and moments.

It's all very intuitive, I don't think I really choose, I just experiment and if it feels right then it's the right medium. To me they're just tools and I have plenty to choose from, some are more convenient and some will make an artwork infinitely longer to create, I'm just trying to explore as much as possible, I feel like it gives a very dreamlike looks to my art, the viewer often doesn't seem to know which tools and mediums I've been using for a piece.

Red is pure emotion. It can be passion, danger, longing, warmth, memory… It's a color that vibrates on so many levels. For me, it also evokes the cinematic red neon, velvet curtains, taillights in the rain. It’s the heartbeat of the image, in a way. I often start with red and build the palette around it, it anchors the mood.

I want the viewer to feel like they’ve stumbled into a moment that isn’t theirs, but that somehow belongs to them emotionally. Like overhearing a beautiful, half-remembered song. My hope is that each viewer finds their own meaning in the work, and that it stays in their mind like a dream they can’t quite shake.