On repeat
I grew up in Paris and live in Atlanta. In between came Northfield, New York, Minneapolis and Fargo.
125 albums from 1998 to 2025, each placed where I was living when it was on repeat.
Data visualizations I’ve built, newest first. Each one is interactive.
Japanese cinema drawn as a cross-section of air: 47 films by Ozu, Mizoguchi, Kurosawa, Miyazaki and others, one mark per shot.
What 65,175 people did with three trolley problems, where nineteen theories of right and wrong part ways, and the dilemmas that keep coming back.
Every known road of the Roman Empire, how long each place took to reach on foot, and how little of the map anyone is sure of.
What people call the colors on a screen: a map of color names, every color behind a name, and what light, dark and dusty do.
Twelve centuries of cherry blossom in Kyoto, grape harvests in Burgundy and ice on a lake and a river, on one clock of the year.
Every charted light on the world's coasts, flashing its own rhythm and color, with sound.
Every noon in 1,436 whaling logbooks, replayed over the oceans, and every American whaling voyage on record.
Every tribe, vote and jury vote from fifty seasons of Survivor, and who the show lets talk.
Seventy-six years of UFO reports from across the United States, replayed where they were made.
My listening history since 1998, in three views.
Stories an AI wrote while I test what it can do, by changing the prompts and the background I give it. I didn’t write them, and I’m not claiming they make me a writer.