I come from a line of people who crossed fields and entered forests. German farmers who worked land until it gave. Norwegian fishermen who read weather in bone and blood. American pioneers who carried both bloodlines west, into new wilderness.

Liefeld. The name means "beloved field." My ancestors were named for the land they tended. Field people. Feld people.

But every field has its edge. Every clearing meets the treeline. And every man who works the open ground must eventually walk into the woods alone.

This project is an attempt to remember. To encode in digital form what once passed through firelight and breath. The runes our ancestors carved. The sounds of the ancient woods. The rituals of reflection that made boys into men and men into something worth remembering.

I build FELD & FORST because I refuse to be rootless. Because ancestry is not nostalgia — it is fuel. Because somewhere in the tangle of DNA that makes me, there are people who survived winters that would kill us, who buried children and kept working, who walked thousands of miles toward uncertainty.

I owe them my attention.

FELD & FORST is the psychedelic arm of something larger. Where ICARUS REBORN burns red and flies toward the sun, this walks green and descends into root systems. Both are mine. Both are necessary.

The warrior needs his arena. But he also needs his night in the woods before battle. The open field where he stands exposed. The dark forest where he finds what he's made of.

Enter both.