I come from a place whose name contains only two phonemes found in English. In the town’s only shop, you could exchange paper vouchers for vodka, buckwheat blood sausage, and stale bread.

I’m approaching forty now. After a successful but life-draining and isolating career in IT, I feel the need to reconnect with the world’s creative force.

Surrounded by four bloodthirsty females and castrated cat, I barricaded myself away in my studio.

I’m a hopeless gearhead—don’t start a conversation about gear-related subjects, or I’ll put you to sleep and no work will get done.

What I can offer is dedication and enthusiasm.