I needed a place for everything.

If you're a creative like me, you might understand the urge to combine all your work, to try to make sense of it in one central hub. That, in essence, is what *Tempo Immaterial* is about.

But it's also a powerful reminder: that I am and always will be in progress.

This website, as you might notice, is incomplete. I lovingly call it the eternal beta. As a solo designer and developer who thrives taking on complex ideas, I might never iron out everything, but I'll always be improving.

And yet, I hope you can see the site for what else it is: my best attempt to offer a little beauty to a world that too often looks hideous. To teach and learn all at once. To sustain myself through creative work while trying to make it mean something.

So, take your time. I know I did.

Something about the landscape has resided in me to this day, even as I've shed the backwards ideologies of Southern Baptist cults threaded through my veins. As a closeted trans woman, I learned not to discard the white supremacist neo-fascism, but to understand it—to learn how an entire people can become so misled and to hope in art that can help them change their views when so many political discussions fall on deaf ears.

After leaving Ohio, I stayed in the Midwest, pursuing postgraduate work in Muncie, Indiana, coming out to myself as trans, and learning how to cope with the different ways adhd affects my everyday life. These were some of the hardest times I ever experienced, but I grew through them, developing an urge to participate in so many communities I'd been blind to.

The last few years have found me in a different space. I've always loved creating all shades of art, and I thrive most when I'm learning a new way to do something. Often, my brain pushes me into new territory before I've finished old projects, but I've learned to appreciate all the "incomplete" works I've made along the way. Finally, through this site, I'm sharing so many of them.

Currently, I live in Leeds, UK. I'm working as a Content Engineer for Vercel, and continuing my various creative projects. If you're interested in collaborating, please send me your idea, and we can brainstorm together to make something extraordinary.

I expect myself to be a specific version of excellent.

I eschew conformity in my art only to find myself grasping at others' measures of success to weigh my work against.

In talking with a dear friend recently, we came to the conclusion that questions exist not solely to be answered, but rather, too, as spelunkers for deeper questions.

That each idea, once explored, is revealed to be a multitude of uncharted worlds.

If art is to be mimesis, must it not, as life, remain incomplete?

I've been trying to make a website for a few years now: a place to house all my work that doesn't seem to fit anywhere else. What always stopped me dead was how much my work, when joined together, asks so many more questions than it answers—feels, in other words, desperately unfinished.

How arrogant to think I'd be the only voice to ask & answer.

This place, instead, I'm making the terra sancta I know how to create right now, without all the knowledge I've yet to see before I die. Perhaps instead of this studio being a declaration, I can posture myself into the shape of a question mark:

Will you teach me what you know?