Hello,

My name is Chris.

I am a music producer, engineer, and photographer based in Gainesville, Virginia.

For as long as I can remember, music has not simply been sound, but a vessel. When I listen to my favorite records, I am transported into another world, as if carried through time and space by invisible currents. Music feels spiritual to me — a way of telling stories that transcend words, a way of holding emotion in vibration. I pursue my art because I want to recreate that experience for others: to build spaces where sound and memory fuse into something unforgettable.

Storytelling, however, is not always at the center of music today. Much has been lost to immediacy and spectacle. My response is not rejection but exploration: I search for the moments when music pierces through the noise, when it connects people deeply, when it lingers. Those are the moments I live to create.

Through years of study and practice, I’ve come to see myself less as a “careerist” and more as an artist in dialogue with the world. My path is shaped as much by accident as by choice. The freedoms I’ve been given, the constraints I’ve faced, even the limitations that frustrate me — these are all materials I work with, like instruments in an orchestra. I did not choose many of them; they are accidents of birth, yet they are also gifts. I can’t control how others perceive me or my art. What matters is what I do with what I’ve been given: to create something true, something that carries positive weight in the world.

My responsibility, as I see it, is to be authentic — to show what I believe to be beautiful, whether it’s a melody, a photograph, or a fleeting spark of joy. That beauty often emerges in contrast: the warmth of nature beside the pulse of circuitry, the fragile bloom of a flower beside the metallic glow of a synthesizer. I find myself returning again and again to this war and reconciliation between Mother Earth and technology. Both shape us, and my work is an attempt to show them not as opposites but as collaborators in tension, weaving new patterns together.

Visual art is inseparable from this process. I often begin a project by envisioning its imagery before I write a single note. The visual sets the stage in the mind’s eye — a landscape, a color, a texture — that gives the music context and resonance. At other times, it begins with a sound itself: a single synthesizer patch that sparks the right emotional chord. Sometimes all it takes is one tone, simple and pure, to open the door to an entire world. From there, I build slowly, layering sound design, carving space, and filling gaps until the idea finds its final form.

Synthesizers hold a special place in this journey. They are both modern marvels and relics of a not-so-distant past: once just wires, transistors, and capacitors cobbled together in experimental labs, now endlessly powerful and versatile instruments. I love the dialogue they create — the nostalgia of early machines and the futuristic promise they carry. Working with them is intimate, almost like befriending a living entity. Getting to “know” an instrument, learning its quirks and personality, is as essential to me as the music it produces.

At present, my work leans toward electronic dance music, drawing heavily from the synth-driven sounds of the late ’70s and ’80s. Still, I resist strict classification. My tracks may echo synthwave, EDM, or pop, but they do not belong to any one genre. I prefer to treat genre as a palette, mixing shades of influence to create something uniquely my own. Each project challenges me to push deeper, to explore farther, to find beauty in unexpected collisions of sound.

I am currently shaping my first EP alongside several singles. I’ve chosen not to force a timeline because authenticity requires patience. Creation, to me, is like woodcarving: at the outset, the form is unknown, hidden in the grain. Only through time, care, and attention does the shape reveal itself. My projects are much the same — unpredictable, evolving, alive.

Ultimately, SYNTHWERK is my way of making sense of the dialogue between humanity, nature, and technology. It is my attempt to honor the wild earth and the wired machine, to embrace beauty in both, and to share that beauty with others. If my work can carry someone — even for a moment — to a place of wonder, reflection, or joy, then I’ve done what I set out to do.

Black and white portrait of a young man with short hair, wearing a black t-shirt, with tattoos on his right arm, sitting against a dark background
As an artist, I accept where I am now and the uncertainty of where I am going - where I will be. My work is unabashedly a reflection of my authentic self at the time and place of its conception. I create the here and now - where I am today.
— Chris Cooley