At the heart of it all is music — the pulse of life, the key that cracks open time, the feeling that needs no translation, the way the universe speaks through us. Through sound, texture, and story, she opens immersive portals where nothing is fixed and evolution is inevitable.
It’s a fusion of frequencies — instinct, collective emotion, and the invisible architecture of the moment. I’m not just reading the crowd; I’m breathing with them. My sets respond to contrast: when to lift, when to let us breathe, when to stretch the silence so the drop hits harder. The quiet amplifies the loud, and tension becomes a tool — a ritual, not a routine. I’ll never forget when I was in Rio doing a sunrise set on the Pedra de Arpadoar I threw on a Mila Journee track, No Es No. I wanted to play something people there may know, and besides the point it’s an absolute banger I love. This one girl who was bopping along next to me LOST it. For me, that’s what makes it so special. It’s one of my favorite tracks, it’s one of her favorite tracks – and it just happened. Only thru music can a t girl from Alabama find a way to connect with people she doesn’t even speak the same language with at that level.
You describe yourself as a “shape-shifting sonic architect.” What does that mean to you on a day-to-day creative level?
For me – life is a flow. Whether it’s music, painting, fashion, or yoga — it’s all one practice, one movement. Yoga is my root; it anchors my nervous system. From there, I follow my internal compass. I wake up in the morning & let my internal compass dictate where the energy goes. Some days its music, others its painting. I sometimes can get absorbed in a video edit for 48 hours; or sometimes weeks I go by without touching a paint brush, only for when I’m stuck in one creative process the act of throwing paint serves as full release. It’s a constant cycle. I stretch myself — creatively, physically, energetically — to find the edge of chaos and control & that’s the balance. I Architects line things up, they make it pretty, they know sometimes you have to tear it apart and rebuild from scratch or can see things no one else sees – the space in between. That’s where transformation lives, & that’s where I try to live.
Fashion, movement, and sound all flow through your work. Is there a piece of clothing, a texture, or a gesture that feels like a recurring symbol in your performances?
The raw edge — always. In my sets, my art, my fashion — you can feel it. Torn fabric, layered canvases, sonic distortion. My work is textured, imperfect, alive. There’s a Japanese philosophy called wabi-sabi — the beauty of imperfection. Like Yohji Yamamoto said: perfection is machine-made. I try to remind myself when my ADHD brain kicks in to over drive & I hyperfixate on something to let it go. My work breathes. It bleeds. It reveals the hand. The soul.
Coming from the Deep South and now rooted in NYC nightlife — what have you carried with you from each world, and what have you left behind?
From the South, I carry warmth — that Greek Southern hospitality, the “how y’all doing” spirit. But I left the shame, anger, & regret behind. I tried so long to be someone I wasn’t – and there’s a beauty in fully embracing your true self. From New York, I absorbed the speed & chaos. It’s a city that demands everything — nonstop, managing a thousand little things, where everything is ALWAYS just a little bit harder. Nightlife in the city is rooted in so much tradition & history but with modern takes & twists. A night out can be like a Dali painting – endless, fuzzy, & not quite sure how you ended up where you are. I live for a warehouse rave. 3 am. Bass pounding. In some ways, it’s still a spirit of community & togetherness that I cherish from both worlds.
In your world, nothing is fixed and evolution is inevitable. How do you stay grounded while constantly reinventing yourself?
Wiping sweat off yoga mats. It keeps you humble & honest when some days your on top of the world, it’s a good check ego at the door & be of service to someone else. There is order in the mundane. When my head is constantly spinning new ideas or anxiety from the outside of the world, the simple act of cleaning up the studio, wiping blocks, rolling mats – its the little dopamine hits my brain needs. There was a task I needed to do, and I did it.
I’ve learned to say no – sometimes. I’ve learned when I need a rave or when I need to go inward. And then the city tries to shake me, I remember what the old me would’ve done to be here. I know who I am — my quirks, my edges, my truth. I’ve done so much inner work to really understand me, what I need, and what brings me joy. Being trans means you’ve already died once. Part II is pure becoming, & I feel like I’m playing with house money.
What’s a sound, instrument, or production technique that’s currently obsessing you — something you’re playing with that feels new or dangerous?
Valhalla Room FX. I want the drop to feel like you’re falling off a cliff — free-falling, shattered, cinematic. Loud, distant, terrifying. Then when the bass kicks back in, you feel it in your chest like a second heartbeat. I’m not here to make you comfortable. I’m here to make you feel. Until I break the Logic Project I’m working with & it’s completely shattered.
If ZØVIVΛΛ were a portal, what kind of world would you be inviting us into — and what do you hope we leave behind when we enter it?
