The Monster is the Closet 

The Monster is the Closet is a personal testimony wrapped in allegory, tracing one child’s journey through fear, discovery, transformation, and finally love. Built on the colors of the spectrum, it celebrates identity not as a single moment of arrival, but as a brave unfolding toward confidence, truth, and sacred union.

Your Next Great Thing

Sometimes the search for meaning feels like rummaging through empty cupboards, waiting for inspiration to arrive and wondering if the well has finally run dry. Your Next Great Thing explores the torment and beauty of creative struggle, the fear of standing still, and the realization that perhaps the search itself is the thing we were always meant to give shape to.

The Pace

There comes a moment in every run when effort gives way to rhythm, noise fades, and the body remembers something the mind had forgotten. “The Pace” explores the strange stillness hidden inside motion, where breath, heartbeat, and awareness quietly fall into step.

Analog Girl

“Analog Girl” steps outside the childhood lens of Analog Patience and into the present, exploring what it means to navigate a world where everything is instant, connected, and endlessly available. Through her resistance, frustration, and eventual return to something more internal, this piece reflects on the quiet value of imagination in an age that rarely asks us to wait.

Sometimes the most vivid images aren’t on a screen at all.

Night Signals

Night Signals captures the fragile boundary between childhood imagination and primal fear, where the familiar refuge of a basement becomes something far less certain. Set against the flickering afterglow of late-night television, this piece follows a young boy’s urgent ascent from darkness, chased not by something seen, but something deeply felt. The cellar transforms into a liminal space where time stalls, breath tightens, and fear presses close enough to feel on the back of the neck. In this suspended moment between sleep and waking, escape is not just physical, but psychological. A meditation on memory, fear, and the dreamlike loops that shape our earliest encounters with the unknown.

Naked Wires

We like to believe we run our own code. Biology lays the base, society rewrites it, and somewhere along the way the system becomes exposed. Naked wires in open air. Vulnerable to influence, suggestion, and the slow corrosion of constant input. This piece explores that fragile boundary, where the need to be seen becomes the breach, and a switch can flip without warning.

Depth of Field

In the quiet glow of a basement in March 1982, the waiting finally pays off. The signal has been tuned, the record has been chosen, and now the image returns, developed and real. This piece closes the analog loop, where patience is not just endured but understood. In a world that moved at the speed of process, meaning had time to form, settle, and reveal itself.

33 and a Third

A snow day, a basement, and a turntable spinning time itself. Before everything was instant, there was a rhythm to waiting. Records played start to finish, stories unfolded one track at a time, and imagination filled the space in between. This piece explores the quiet ritual of vinyl, where a boy begins to choose his own signal, shaping not just what he hears, but who he becomes.

Channel 3

A quiet Saturday morning in the early 1980s. Three channels, a Zenith television, and the ritual of cartoons and commercials that defined a generation. In this moment, the boy isn’t just watching the show. He’s watching himself on Channel 3, frozen in black and white on the screen. A fleeting broadcast becomes a memory that outlasts the signal, a reminder of when the world arrived through antennas and imagination did the rest.