My music has been performed by collaborators like Peter Sheridan, Lizzy Welsh, and Fragments Ensemble across North America, Europe, Asia, and Australia, at festivals from Darmstädter Ferienkurse to Tura’s Totally Huge New Music Festival. The scores themselves are published by Wirripang, Edition Resonance, and the Australian Music Centre, and reach new audiences around the world. I’m driven by collaboration, and indeed, have written about the importance of that, and whether written for baroque instruments, improvising ensembles, or autonomous computer agents, I believe my best work comes out with other people. It’s why I co-founded Tilde: to create spaces for new collaborations to emerge. Click here for a full list of art-music pieces from my main composer website

Sound, for me, is a way to interpret the everyday in our world. In residence at Bio 21 Laboratory, I turned chemical structures into scores; at Portland’s Upwelling Festival, the sounds of the ocean and the environment became an immersive “walk” along the foreshore, where people could recognise the recontextualised sounds from their known environments. These projects share a method: treating data, space, memory and found sound as compositional materials. The result might be a gallery piece repurposed into a café (like Bits & Pieces for Melbourne Fringe), public art (Stop, Listen commissioned by Banyule City Council), or custom sound design for a game. What ties them together is an obsession with how sound shapes perception and experience.

From 2013 to 2020, I co-directed Tilde New Music and Sound Art Inc., an organization that filled a glaring gap: avant-garde music in Oceania needed new spaces to thrive. Our eight-day festival (backed by $100K+ funding) wasn’t just about performances – it wove together panel discussions on equity, an artist academy, and cross-disciplinary risks. That ethos carries into my other work today: whether contributing to ADSR Zine, collaborating on game audio, or developing DIY publishing, I’m drawn to projects that challenge hierarchies. Because music, at its best, isn’t just something you hear. It’s something you build, question, and remake—often with others.