I like kind people, art and technology. That's the least sophisticated way to say it and the most accurate.

My family is spread across four continents, between Europe, Asia, the Caribbean, and the United States, with my own roots here in Curaçao. Growing up inside that, you learn early that places aren't interchangeable. What's ordinary in one house is strange in another, and the person who assumes otherwise is always the one who gets it wrong. Most of my design instincts come from there, including the stubborn ones. It's why I'd rather a system admit it doesn't know a place than quietly borrow an answer from somewhere else.

So the work keeps returning to the same ordinary hope. That a day is a little easier, or a little more surprising, because of something someone made with care. A neighbourhood that changes because people showed up. A traveller who packs lighter because somebody who actually lives there told them what it's like. Five people who leave a workshop with a computer they built and a case they sewed for it, which is really about finding out you can make the thing you assumed you had to buy.

Technology is the part I'm good at. But what's underneath it, every time you go looking, is a person, somewhere, in the middle of something. So what's it for, if not that?