Every screen is a wall.
I build doors.

Lysergic is my artist name. I studied sound and audio engineering at SAE — learning to build a room out of frequencies before I ever built one out of light.

The rest of my education happened in Amsterdam's squatting scene. I spent years there organising around immigration rights, queer and trans rights, and the housing shortage that made all of it visible in the first place. Empty buildings sat locked while people slept outside; that contradiction is still the thing I keep coming back to.

When squatting was banned in the Netherlands, the work didn't stop — it needed a new legal shape. So I built one, and founded Stichting Bildung: a framework for giving empty spaces a new purpose instead of simply taking them. We turned a former church into a home for ten people and a social and cultural centre for everyone else. Theatre groups without a budget rehearsed there. A giveaway shop ran out of one room; out of another, people on low incomes collected fresh produce that would otherwise have been thrown away.

The building filled up fast, with people from every background in the city. It worked because it was never organised around difference — not race, not culture, not religion — but around what people actually had in common: needing somewhere to be, and something to make.

That is also, in the end, what the installations are about. I work across projection mapping, reactive lighting, spatial sound and music production, building environments that pull people together rather than apart — a deliberate inversion of how most technology operates. A room can be organised the same way a building can.

I have a long history at Ruigoord — projection mapping installations in the church, and the visual environments for Wiltgroei and other parties held there and around the village. Beyond Ruigoord, my work has been shown at festivals including Berlin Atonal, where experimental electronic music and immersive visual art meet.

I now live in De Punt, in Drenthe, where I'm building a fully self-sustainable house — land, animals, and a workshop for designing audiovisual art. It's the same impulse as the church, on a smaller footprint: build the room you want to live in, with your own hands, out of what's around you.

Sól, which premiered at Het Landjuweel in July 2026, marked a shift: from projection (light on surfaces) to sculpture (light as object), and from reactive visuals (responding to a performer) to participatory interaction (responding to the crowd itself). At the festival it did exactly what the church did — people worked out how it functioned, then went and fetched strangers to help them hold the circle. Neural Ritual, now in development, turns the same question inward: what happens when the only interface left is your own attention?

For the physical build of Sól I worked with kikvors, a collective of makers, programmers and performers active across the Netherlands, alongside the Landjuweel crew.