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Kraft & Vision

Told in chronological order, this story traces the evolution of my work across countries, media, and disciplines — where craft (Kraft) and vision meet.

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My Visual References / Background

My sense of aesthetics was born in contrasts: high-saturation rustic colours set against Classical symmetry, glitter and fruit roll-ups inside American shopping malls, sequencing lights and motion hidden in everyday objects. Mexico gave me pink and green—still my favorite pair—and an enduring love of craftsmanship, materials, and colour. Monterrey revealed the dialogue between classic interiors, engineered luxury, and clean, composed spaces, while the United States awakened my fascination with visual effects and movement, along with the boldness to ask: What do you want, and why should I care?

Languages layered themselves in the same way, each one shifting the meaning of a single object and teaching me that nothing is ever singular—every word, every object, every gesture can hold more than one truth. When we arrived in France, the immediacy of colour and warmth receded, replaced by a more sober visual language. Too young to grasp its subtlety, I grew restless and sought intensity elsewhere—hitchhiking as a teenager on German highways, wandering the streets and clubs of Berlin—absorbing, adapting, blending in until even my accent disappeared.

From these fragments of colour, motion, and meaning grew the desire to give form to language. That search led me to painting—where intuition could finally meet craft.

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Fine Arts Studies

Recklessness, a passion for painting, a strong portfolio, and no shortage of arrogance carried me into the Hochschule der Künste. At the final interview, I declared: “If you don’t accept me, I will learn your language and leave.” Barely eighteen—the youngest ever accepted at the time—I found myself inside a buffet of creative possibilities, tempered by the conceptual dominance of the early 2000s. One-meaning videos were everywhere.

I didn’t connect with the discourse of the moment, but I was drawn fiercely to process: oil painting, printmaking, paint chemistry, motion design, video editing. Too young to grasp the distance required for conceptual art, I threw myself into technical experimentation, externalizing my pathos while learning art history and philosophy with Gilles Deleuze. Nothing teaches a language faster than studying a French philosopher, translated into German, in a German-speaking classroom.

If the conceptual zeitgeist left me anything, it was an obsession with space—the dialogue between body and environment. That thread never left me; it continues to shape my work to this day.

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Becoming Mr. Television
After earning my BA and MA in Studio and Digital Arts at the U.D.K., I faced a choice: linger in Berlin, full of energy but few prospects, or leap forward. I chose New York. Like many newcomers, I worked two jobs and lived with strippers just to claim the barest space one could call home. Yet with the boldness of youth—chutzpah, or simply New York grit—I found internships that opened doors: first at the Guggenheim, then with interior designers and architects. My bilingual skills and visual media background allowed me to move fluidly between roles, exploring design, administration, and the spaces in between.

Each experience became a lesson in materiality and spatial dialogue. With Frank de Biasi—trained under Peter Marino—and later Sandra Nunnerly, I discovered the language of surfaces: swatch libraries, textures, finishes, and the rhythm of production when projects traveled from concept to realization in France. Administration was never my strength, yet it revealed the rigor of French craftsmanship—and how to advocate for it.

To survive in New York, I expanded into freelance graphic design, moonlighting at the French-American Chamber of Commerce, and assisting Judith Barry, artist, writer, and theorist collected by MoMA and the Centre Pompidou. From her I absorbed not just technique, but a way of thinking: the interplay of architecture, media, and storytelling, the discourse that continues to shape how I understand space, movement, and narrative in my work.

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Developing a Passion for Spaces and Materials

A choice lay before me: remain in international import-export, or dive into the world of digital media production. The answer came almost inevitably from the visual language of my childhood—summers spent in the United States, watching the news with my grandfather, chewing fruit roll-ups, waterskiing, and impatiently waiting for the hand-me-down, fancy-schmancy suitcase of my single-child cousin Steve. Those years had imprinted me with an early obsession: the streak of light traveling through the CNN logo in the early ’90s. I wanted to create that. That was my calling.

To reconcile my instinct for production with my fascination for media, I returned to school, pursuing a Master’s in Graphic Design Management and Technology at NYU. Almost immediately, I was recruited by one professor to become a video producer for a publishing house, and later by another to work as a broadcast designer for NBC Universal. Daytime broadcast design, night courses—this became my rhythm, a life of constant learning and experimentation—until I graduated with my second Master’s.

From there, I stepped fully into primetime broadcast design, leading creative teams and shaping the visual identity of nightly news. For six years, I lived inside the flow of television storytelling, culminating in an Emmy for investigative journalism, awarded alongside the Chris Hayes team.

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Exploring Non-Linear Media

Soon after winning an Emmy with the ALL-IN team, I felt the pull of a new challenge. I began working mornings as a print production assistant at The Nation magazine, while spending afternoons, evenings, and weekends in primetime television as a freelance graphic design studio assistant. Yet the truth about television slowly became apparent: once the videos and graphics were produced and sent to the control room, was there any interaction left for the viewer? Was I producing dead, canned media for passive audiences?
The shift came in 2016 with the introduction of VIZRT, real-time graphics software. During the primary elections, the sheer volume of candidates and the constant need for updated data led to database-driven graphics that no longer required motion or graphic designers. The writing was on the wall: my role would soon become redundant. Yet in this technological pivot, something captivated me—the possibility of real-time, interactive graphics sparked my curiosity for AR and VR.

Attending Augmented and Virtual Reality meetups—AR-NY and NYVR—I realized I wanted to create media that offered non-linear experiences, integrating print, interactivity, and immersive storytelling. I quit my television job, simplified my life by keeping only my publishing work, and dove into the VR world. I quickly built a community, reminiscent of my strategy in Germany: attend the seminars that interest you, absorb the language even if the concepts are initially opaque, and gradually make sense of the vocabulary.

I found my niche: offering graphic front-end production to incredibly talented back-end developers. Together, we founded Orbix360—a drag-and-drop, hardware-agnostic webVR creation and publishing platform. My goal was to integrate variable-data printing with direct mail and e-commerce experiences, triggered by QR codes or visual markers. In this work, I discovered the thrill of bridging media, interactivity, and design—a continuation of the same fascination with communication, media, and engagement that had guided me since childhood.

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Hello Europe

With a strong portfolio of freelance clients, I began scouting the world for a new challenge—somewhere I could combine remote work with the next evolution of my practice: using my languages and design skills with an international brand. I traveled to Beijing and later Hong Kong, but Europe was calling, and I couldn’t refuse. My love for German, combined with my longstanding connection to France, made the choice clear: Paris. I knew the city could offer a level of cultural input comparable to New York.

Soon, I became Production Director for VIVANT, the digital brand of an international wine company led by Michael Baum and associated with Château de Pommard, one of Burgundy’s most exclusive vineyards. The challenge was a synthesis of everything I had done before—and more. I oversaw the development of educational and gamified oenology content for an online platform that merged e-commerce, live wine advisors, and an automated control room, while proposing mail-in wine tubes for interactive experiences.
Over the next few years, I managed a total of 36 wine tasting experiences, covering wine regions across France, Spain, and Italy, producing all content with a team of sixteen. I became the international media production manager I had long envisioned—navigating the complexities of different time zones and cultures, learning to lead, adapt, and grow.

While directing the production of wine-related graphics, I also learned deeply about terroir and the role of soil. Searching for visual references to illustrate the soils and characteristics of each wine, I realized how I had long used textures for aesthetic appeal alone, without considering their composition, name, or symbolic meaning. Marble was merely black, white, or green; wood was dark or honey-colored. Only when I began to select images that truly represented tasting notes did I grasp the profound significance of textures—their capacity to convey information, emotion, and narrative.

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Shifting Back to Analogue

The post-COVID landscape shifted the wave of growth I had experienced in online wine experiences, and the economic situation led the company to fold. This pause became an opportunity to reflect on what truly mattered to me: the importance of culture, textures, design, and architecture. Gradually, I returned to my first creative passion—painting—not as a gallery artist, but as a decorative painter.
I rediscovered the contemplation, tactile practice, and technical rigor that only painting could provide. The act of creating with brush, pigment, and surface reminded me of the patience and presence embedded in craft—a stark contrast to the instant reversibility of digital media, where mistakes vanish with a Control-Z. Recognizing both my skill and the market demand, I undertook formal training in decorative painting and began to build a practice that combined centuries-old techniques with the hard and soft skills I had acquired over years of media, design, and production management.

Soon, my work took me around the globe, from Cartier projects in Hong Kong, Miami, and New York to private commissions for the Walton family villas across the United States. Each project became more than decoration: it was an opportunity to tell stories through time, connect with people, transmit techniques, and witness the social and economic contexts embedded in the spaces I worked in. Innovation, discovery, and adaptation were constant companions—blending traditional French craftsmanship with international sensibilities, textures, and vibrant colors.

Decorative painting became a language of connection—where material, history, and culture meet, and where each brushstroke can carry meaning across time. While I am now sensitive to European classical aesthetics, I continue to fight to bring in digital media and vibrant colors, creating a contemporary fusion of creativity across cultures and eras.

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A Synthesis of Craft and Vision

This path allowed me to merge craft and legacy with international experience, exporting French craftsmanship and decorative tradition across the globe. My work took me to projects for Cartier in Hong Kong, Miami, and New York, as well as the Walton family villas across the United States, all while leveraging my legal ability to work in the US and internationally. Each project became an opportunity to combine centuries-old techniques with the digital and production skills I had acquired over years in media, design, and management.
Decorative painting, for me, is more than aesthetics—it is storytelling through time. Each surface carries history and context, connecting past and present, technique and narrative. Through my work, I transmit skills, witness social and economic contexts, and explore innovation and discovery. I continue to experiment with textures, colors, and materials, blending centuries-old craft with contemporary influences, always aware of the dialogue between tradition and invention.

While I am now sensitive to European classical aesthetics, I continue to fight to bring digital media, vibrant colors, and a contemporary visual language into my work—a fusion of creativity across cultures and time. Every brushstroke is an invitation: to see, to feel, and to inhabit the stories embedded in space, materials, and technique.

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