About me

But even before I ever played a note, music was already a deep part of me. I felt it intensely—through the artists I admired, the albums I compulsively played on repeat, the soundtracks that shaped my world. Still, I had never considered playing, let alone composing. I didn’t come from an artistic background; music was something I consumed, not something I made. But when I finally picked up an instrument at 15, it felt natural—like unlocking a language I had always known, just never spoken. And almost at that very moment, I realized I could never separate music from creation.

Before music, I learned to love films. Before films, I learned to love video games. I was drawn to the way these realms captured moments—how they preserved emotion, movement; the ineffable weight of experience. And yet, even in their most powerful scenes, it was the music that lingered. The melodies that followed me long after the credits rolled, the harmonies that colored memories in ways words never could.

When I compose, I don’t impose—I uncover. Every story, whether on screen or in play, already has a sound waiting to be found. My job is to listen, to pull at the invisible thread that connects emotion to melody, scene to sound. Improvisation is my way in. It’s not just practice; it’s how I think, how I explore, how I find truth in the unknown.

I’ve worked on short films and indie video games, collaborating with filmmakers and developers who, like me, believe in the power of music as storytelling. Beyond that, I teach—because knowledge is meant to be passed on. I want my students to leave not just with skills, but with certainty. I want them to feel the same pull that brought me here.

Music is my search for meaning, for balance, for something beyond what words can say. And if I do my job right, you’ll feel it too.