Overture

March 6, 2026

The first note of a composition is the hardest. Silence before it has weight, expectation, memory.

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The most complicated wristwatch ever made. Twenty complications. Five years of assembly. A price that begins where superlatives end.

Forty-five minutes before the doors opened. The work makes a different kind of sense when nobody else is in the room.

When something can be replaced, it will be. I only collect what cannot.

Removing one element did not simplify the piece — it clarified the intent entirely.

At 1:50 scale, the entrance is exactly large enough to be humbling.

You cannot compose what you do not understand. I spent three years learning to hear nothing.

Three years underground. Whatever is bottled there is currently no one's business but ours.

Power is not what is said. It is what is decided before the meeting.

The first note of a composition is the hardest. Silence before it has weight, expectation, memory.

People ask how long I spend in the darkroom. I tell them: however long the print needs.

Three thousand names on the waitlist for something made in a room I can barely stand upright in.

No windows, no clocks, no interruptions. Three days of work that will last a decade.