Music built as worlds

The eye came first

Twenty years of art direction before a single track.

I did not arrive here through a conservatory. I arrived through images: two decades of art direction, of framing, of deciding what a thing should feel like before deciding what it should contain. Layout, light, rhythm, restraint. The grammar was already there; only the medium changed.

It explains everything about how these records are built. I do not write songs and look for a cover afterwards. I see the room first (the light in it, the hour of the day, the colour of the walls) and the music arrives to furnish it.

I see the room first. The music arrives to furnish it.

An album is architecture

Not a folder of tracks that happen to be finished at the same time.

Every record starts as a structure. Ceiling Sky was eighteen tracks in four acts before a single note existed: the debt, the price, the roots and the cracks, the return. Fifty-five minutes that fit inside one night, in one bedroom, under a ceiling a kid used to call a sky.

Constraint is the method. One theme per track, no strong image used twice. The bedroom-and-ceiling motif is deliberately reserved for tracks 01 and 18 and appears nowhere else across the other sixteen, so that when it comes back at the end, it lands. Never two ballads in a row. The raw anthems relaunch the energy every two or three tracks.

And the record closes where it opens: the ghost chant of track 01 returns as an echo at the end of track 18. The album is a loop. Press play, look up.

Eighteen tracks in four acts existed before a single note did.

A different voice each time

Not one narrator. A different voice for every track.

Every track gets its own voice. Not one narrator carried across eighteen songs, but a different presence each time: another tone, another grain, a voice that comes to take possession of a single thought and then leaves. Some are warm and worn, some are sharp, some barely hold together on the high notes. Never the same singer twice.

The craft underneath does not change. Cloning a voice from a finished song drags the whole song with it: the melody bleeds, phrases from the source resurface three tracks later. So every voice is built plain, on a take with no hook and no melody of its own, then shaped until the tone is exactly what the track needs. Nothing to leak, and free to be different.

What makes eighteen tracks feel like one record is not a voice. It is the writing: the four acts, the rules, the world decided before a single note. The voices change on purpose. The architecture does not.

The voices change on purpose. The architecture does not.

Every track gets a face

Eighteen tracks, eighteen artworks, one system.

Black ink on cream paper, and a gold crown. The crown is the through-line: it opens as a scribble above a title, it becomes a tattoo on a hand, and by the end of the campaign it is a shadow thrown across a wall by the slats of a window blind. Same symbol, three states of matter.

Then the room itself, filmed in deep teal night with amber light cutting through the blinds. One character, one bedroom, a wall of photographs, a stack of paper. The visual world is not decoration applied after the fact; it is the same story told in a language that does not need ears.

A scribble, then a tattoo, then a shadow on a wall. Same crown, three states of matter.

The release is part of the work

A record that arrives all at once disappears all at once.

Ceiling Sky came out on 31 July 2026. Then eighteen videos, one per track, one every Sunday at 9PM Paris, in album order, until 29 November. You do not binge it. You live alongside it for four months and the acts pass at the pace of the story.

Same time, same ceiling. It is a promise small enough to keep and long enough to build something with.

All made by one person

On a record made the usual way, what you see and hear is the work of a whole team.

Songwriter, composer, producer, recording engineer, mixing engineer, mastering engineer, art director, photographer, graphic designer, director, editor, colorist, motion designer, community manager, marketing lead, web developer, distributor, project manager. Fifteen to twenty-five trades can gather around a single artist.

StellarWaves is all of that, done by one person. From the first note to the final master, from the visual identity to the covers, from the films to the social posts, from the writing to the website, all the way to the release and the world it lives in.

AI did not replace twenty people. It gave one person hands fast enough to hold every role. The decisions stayed mine.

One vision, one person, from start to finish.