Surfaces, words and fireare how I make sense of the world
I grew up in Vienna between two irreconcilable parents. I studied architecture at the Angewandte, moved to Italy, had two children, fled in the night, and came back to a city that held all three of my languages.
I look at fabric, at porcelain, at walls, and I find the repeating shape hidden inside the chaos. German is where I stand, Italian is where I loved, English is where I think.
Every surface teaches something different about weight, repetition, and what survives the fire. I pour everything onto a surface, then I see what it can hold.
The book behind the workWords fired into glaze at 1,200 degrees. The heat makes them permanent.
Frustrated Unpaid Mother Dress. Pattern design that says what fabric can't.
Porsche Cayenne wrapped in surface pattern. The car became the plate.
Toilet paper, wrapping paper, morning pages. Some surfaces are meant to be thrown away.
4 million words of morning pages. One memoir. Twenty chapters. Thirty years.
Art That Sells. For artists who need to make money and stopped waiting for permission.
I didn't plan to write a book. I planned to record a course — 49 scripts sitting in a folder for six years. The course never happened. What happened instead was that I sat down one morning at 5 AM and started writing to a man who didn't reply.
Two thousand one hundred and ninety mornings later, I had four million words and no course. The book came out of those mornings the way honey comes out of a hive — slowly, with heat, knowing the bees did the real work.
"I had to write it because I burned people with my words. For years I wrote on porcelain plates. Then I stopped making art and aimed those 1,200-degree words directly at people. They couldn't hold what porcelain could."
5 AM, every morning, for six years. Four million words before breakfast.
Porcelain, fabric, cars, walls. Every material has a breaking point.
1,200 degrees in the kiln. What survives is permanent.
The words that porcelain couldn't hold became a memoir.
Everything I learned about being seen, in one course.
Original surface patterns — the same ones that went on Porsche Cayennes, porcelain plates, and museum walls — now on leggings you actually move in.
Plus digital planners built from how I actually work — morning pages, project tracking, the slow discipline that turned four million words into a book and a career.