A lot of my taste comes from seeing, exploring, and experiencing things. I like moving through cities and paying attention to how people dress, how spaces are arranged, how light changes a room, how signs sit on walls, how music changes the mood of a place, how food, objects, and streets can carry the personality of a culture. Maybe part of that comes from my architecture background, but I have always been drawn to places that feel alive, places with character, diversity, memory, and some kind of emotional presence. I like the quiet language of things, especially the details people sometimes pass by too quickly.

I also think there is something powerful in the small freedom people have to shape their own narrative. What you like, how you dress, what you make room for, what you decide to care about, and how you allow yourself to be seen. That freedom is not always complete, and I know that, but it still matters. I think a lot of beauty comes from people finding their own way inside the world they have been given, even when that way is quiet or imperfect.

That is one reason I connect with contemporary art. It often leaves room for many kinds of expression, and I like that. It can be quiet, strange, minimal, emotional, unfinished, direct, uncomfortable, playful, or hard to place. It does not always explain itself immediately, and maybe that is what I enjoy most. It gives you space to look, feel, question, and decide what stays with you.

Love sits inside this too, not as something separate from taste or beauty, but as part of how I notice the world. I see it in the small things with my wife: walking through a city together, stopping for coffee, getting dressed for dinner because we both enjoy dressing well, not to impress anyone, but because it feels like us. I notice how she puts things together, how she carries herself, and how we often meet each other in the same quiet sense of taste without needing to say much.