The Manifesto

ENODIOS is the identity under which I create and present my work. It exists because I wanted the things I make to have a name and a place of their own.

Not every idea needs one, and not everything I make necessarily becomes an ENODIOS work. But when something does, I want it to exist as more than another file uploaded somewhere and forgotten a week later.

ENODIOS encompasses music, writing, visual work, and other creative projects that do not necessarily fit neatly into one category. The medium can change. So can the subject, the scale, and the way a work comes into being.

What connects them is the decision to make them part of ENODIOS.

I have never been particularly interested in making things simply because there is somewhere to put them.

The internet is exceptionally good at turning everything into content.

There are already more songs, images, videos, posts, and pieces of writing being made every day than anyone could possibly experience. The internet is exceptionally good at turning all of it into content, putting it in front of someone for a few seconds, and replacing it with something else.

I do not want to make work that way.

Something changes when an idea stays with you long enough that you decide to do something about it. You spend time with it. You make choices. You discover things you did not expect.

Sometimes you change direction. Sometimes the original idea survives almost untouched. Eventually, it becomes something that can stand on its own.

The work does not have to be perfect. It does not have to be universally understood, commercially successful, or particularly easy to explain. I want it to be honest enough to exist on its own terms.

And once it does, it has a history.

That history does not need to be exhaustive, and it does not require everything that happened behind the scenes to become public. Some experiments are private. Some ideas disappear. Some things are abandoned because they simply do not need to go any further.

I have no interest in turning every discarded thought into an artifact just because it once existed.

What matters is the work itself, and sometimes the things around it that give it meaning: who made it, when it was made, what it was called, where it came from, and what it became.

Those details can be worth keeping with the work because they help tell its story.

Making one thing does not mean having to stop there.

An idea can come back years later and lead somewhere completely different. One work can become the starting point for another. A sound, image, phrase, or thought can stay somewhere in the back of your mind until it eventually becomes something else.

The relationship between two works can be meaningful without making them the same work.

That is part of the reason I do not want ENODIOS confined to one medium or one definition.

I want the identity to have enough room to change with the work. It may become stranger, broader, more focused, more complicated, or simply different from what I expected when it began.

I do not want to define ENODIOS so narrowly that its definition becomes a limitation on what can be made under it.

At the same time, I do not want ENODIOS to mean everything.

Putting something under this name means something to me. It means I made it, chose to stand behind it, and decided that it belonged here.

That does not mean it has to matter to everyone else. It does not need to.

It matters that I chose it.

A name should have some weight.

There will be things that fail. There will be decisions that look different with time. There will be work I understand immediately and work that takes years to understand.

Some things will be simple. Others will become much more complicated than I expected.

That is normal.

ENODIOS is not an attempt to manufacture a perfect body of work. It is a way of giving the things I make a coherent identity while leaving enough room for them to surprise me.

I make something because there is something in it that I want to see exist.

There is still more to make.

— ENODIOS