01

Recording Arts

My path into recording did not come from a traditional engineering mindset. It started in the Dominican Republic through DJing, production, and hours inside Logic Pro trying to understand how records create emotion through sound. What pulled me in was not just the songwriting, but the feeling of records that sounded alive, immersive, and emotionally overwhelming.

As my taste expanded, I became drawn to music from very different worlds that shared that same quality. Records like Getz/Gilberto by Stan Getz and João Gilberto, Voodoo by D’Angelo, and Random Access Memories by Daft Punk made me want to understand what gave recorded music its depth, intimacy, and impact. That curiosity led me toward recording engineering, first out of necessity because I wanted the independence to make my own work sound closer to how I imagined it, and then out of a deeper desire to understand the craft behind the records that moved me most.

Studying at Berklee College of Music gave me a strong technical foundation, but more importantly it helped me connect engineering to a larger artistic purpose. I became interested not only in microphones, signal flow, editing, and studio technique, but also in the work of engineers like Rudy Van Gelder, Russell Elevado, and Phil Ramone, whose recordings helped shape entire emotional worlds.

Today, my recording practice sits between technical discipline and artistic curiosity. I work inside professional studio environments while continuing to grow my own language as a producer, artist, and curator. What interests me is not pristine sound for its own sake, but recording as a creative medium, a way of shaping emotion, space, and identity through sound. I am especially drawn to the tradition of using studio equipment as instruments in themselves, like the dub pioneers of Jamaica, such as King Tubby, where engineering became performance, experimentation, and transformation. That is the spirit I try to carry with me as I keep learning the craft and finding my own voice within it.

02

Sonic Architecture

I think of music as architecture in motion, a way of shaping time, emotion, space, and perception. I have always been drawn to structures, patterns, and environments, whether in buildings, tunnels, cathedrals, films, or sound itself. That way of seeing naturally became part of how I make music. I do not hear songs as just melodies and drums. I hear them as spaces that can be built, entered, and felt from the inside.

A big part of this idea comes from artists who expanded my sense of what music could be. I think about Stevie Wonder’s early period of creative independence, when discovering the TONTO synthesizer helped open a new artistic language and showed that advanced technology could still live inside deeply human and accessible music. I also think about figures like Brian Eno and John Cage, who redefined what recorded music could be and what it could be used for, not just as entertainment, but as environment, concept, atmosphere, and way of perceiving the world differently.

That same way of thinking is why I am so interested in artists like James Turrell and Olafur Eliasson. What moves me about their work is that they treat light almost like an instrument, but the work is only completed through the perception of the person experiencing it. Without the viewer, the piece does not fully exist in the same way. I feel something similar about music. Sound is not only something to compose, record, or perform. It is something that comes alive through the way it is felt, inhabited, and interpreted by the listener.

My work sits between timeless pop, electronic experimentation, and immersive worldbuilding. It pulls from Dominican roots, global club culture, soul, jazz harmony, and contemporary production, bringing together organic warmth and digital precision. Through production, sound design, spatial thinking, and live concepts, I am trying to create music that feels cinematic, physical, and alive, music that moves both the body and the heart while opening a larger space for reflection, feeling, and experience.

03

Music Curation

My relationship with music began long before I understood what production, engineering, or DJing were. As a child, I became fascinated by sound and the technologies used to capture and replay it. One of my earliest memories is carrying a small voice recorder and using it to record songs from concerts, television broadcasts, and live performances so I could listen to them again later. Long before I knew what an iPod or streaming service was, I was already building a personal archive of sounds and experiences that moved me.

As technology evolved, so did the ways I collected music. Voice recordings became MP3 libraries. MP3 libraries became SoundCloud likes and playlists. Playlists became streaming libraries. Along the way, my fascination with discovering music gradually evolved into a fascination with sharing it.

As a teenager, that relationship naturally led to DJing. Performing at parties and small events taught me that music could do more than simply entertain. The way songs were introduced, contrasted, sequenced, and combined could completely change how they were perceived. For the first time, music became a conversation between a room full of people and the person selecting the music.

When I began studying music in college, my relationship with music changed again. After years of building digital collections, I began collecting vinyl records as a way of creating a permanent home for the music that had accompanied me throughout my life. Looking back, I realize I was never simply collecting songs. I was collecting experiences, memories, emotions, and ideas through music.

Years later, I returned to DJing through my growing vinyl collection, but with a different perspective. What began as a desire to play records evolved into a fascination with the ways musical ideas travel across cultures, communities, and generations. From Jamaican sound systems to New York hip-hop, from disco to house music, and from early electronic experiments to contemporary pop, musical history no longer felt like a collection of separate genres. It felt like a continuous conversation shaped by people, technology, culture, and creativity.

This realization transformed the way I approach curation.

Rather than asking what songs belong to the same genre, I became interested in discovering what ideas belong together. A mix became more than a collection of tracks. It became a storytelling medium capable of creating tension and release, revealing hidden connections, and tracing the evolution of ideas across time.

Today, I view music curation as the practice of revealing those connections. Through records, research, listening, and performance, I use mixes to explore the relationships between sounds, histories, and ideas. Each set is an attempt to create a meaningful journey while participating in the larger conversation that music has been carrying forward for generations.