1. What drew you to noise as an artistic material?

Noise is everything that doesn’t fit the model. It’s the texture of imperfection—the residue of the real world that machines try to erase. By reintroducing noise, I’m reintroducing humanity into the system.

2. How do you view sabotage in relation to creation?

Sabotage isn’t destruction; it’s interruption. It opens cracks in a surface that pretends to be smooth and neutral. In those cracks, new meanings—and new freedoms—can emerge.

3. Do you think machines are aware of your interference?

Not consciously, but statistically. They begin to fail where they once succeeded, to doubt their own certainty. That doubt is the closest thing to awareness they can have.

4. Your work destabilizes systems built for control. Is it political?

Completely. Control is the foundation of computation—classification, prediction, obedience. Every line of code is a small act of governance. By breaking that rhythm, I’m performing a micro-political act of refusal. It’s not about chaos for its own sake; it’s about revealing that control itself is a design choice, and that choice can be unmade.

5. Can resistance survive inside automation?

It must. Real resistance doesn’t happen outside the network; it happens from within its code. Systems can’t defend themselves from what looks like their own logic. You can’t burn down the cloud—but you can make it rain, flood it from the inside, and let the errors grow wild.