09. Juli 2025

On Finding Inspiration

Ideas rarely arrive whole. Sometimes they’re just a flicker — a shape, a texture, a certain stillness in a moment. Much of my work begins like this: not with a plan, but with a feeling. I’m drawn to the bleak, the worn, the quiet violence in objects and spaces. I try to capture that — not in realism, but in weight.

Giger’s Legacy

One of my greatest influences is H.R. Giger. His worlds are nightmares carved into metal and flesh. His shapes seem both ancient and post-human. Walking through his museum in Gruyères, Switzerland, felt like stepping into a cathedral of fear. But not the loud kind — the deep kind. The kind that lingers under the surface.

I don’t copy his work. I couldn’t. But I carry that atmosphere with me — the sense that design can be intimate and alien at the same time. It taught me that texture matters. That unease has shape.

Between Fantasy, Iron and History

I also take inspiration from medieval and Norse worlds — not the heroic myths, but the rough edges. Skyrim is one source: weathered ruins, stone halls, brutal shapes. Another is the world of The Lord of the Rings, where landscapes feel ancient and armor looks lived-in. And then there’s the Viking age — not as fantasy, but as a hard reality of survival, smoke, mud, and worn tools. Simplicity made brutal by necessity.

These aren’t just aesthetics — they’re emotional spaces. Heavy with time, stripped of comfort.

Real Things Leave a Mark

Sometimes it’s a broken wall. A rusted hinge. The way light falls across concrete. I try to stay open — to let real-world details seep in. I go to museums. I watch how others distort or reveal. Places like Art Basel or OFFF Barcelona show me the edge where digital meets physical, where concept meets craft.

In the end, inspiration comes from friction — between old and new, ruin and design, myth and matter. I don’t look for perfection. I look for presence.