An engineer’s approach to making things.

Taking things apart

As a kid, no toy or discarded item in my house stayed whole for long. If something came my way, I’d take it apart piece by piece, not to break it, but to see what was inside and keep whatever still had value: motors, electronics, anything that worked or could be made to. I had a whole drawer of salvaged parts, which eventually became the raw material for building custom Beyblades.

That habit never really left. It just found new outlets. Every year there’s something new to learn: gardening, woodworking, photography, whatever pulls my attention next. Manual, hands-on work, the kind most people try to avoid, is where I do my best thinking. It clears space in my head for whatever I want to build next.

One project at a time, whatever the material

The garden is my other lab

From a detour to a company

I moved to Canada in 2017 for a Master’s in Electrical and Computer Engineering. I ended up in petroleum engineering instead, not the plan, but the industry gave me something I didn’t expect: a front-row seat to a real, expensive problem. Methane monitoring was, and still is, costly, and the tools available weren’t built for the scale the industry actually needed.

That problem stuck with me. I built the first prototype while I was still in school, nights and weekends, the same instinct from the toy drawer, just aimed at something bigger. In 2018, I founded Qube Technologies Inc. to take it further: lower-cost methane monitoring hardware, built to work in the field, not just on a bench.

From bench prototype to field-deployed hardware

That work has since been recognized in Forbes and with SAIT’s Outstanding Young Alumni Award in 2023.

Sharing the process, not just the result

I’m social, but I’ve never been a camera-facing person. The idea of putting myself in a video used to be an easy reason to not do it. What changed my mind was realizing how much of what I’ve learned, how to take a rough prototype and actually finish it, how to make something work outside the lab, in the field, in the snow, isn’t written down anywhere. It’s just sitting in my head, or in old project photos.

So I started posting short, bite-sized clips on Instagram anyway, camera-shyness aside. They’re built around a hybrid workflow: unusual project settings, new ways of solving old problems, builds that start with a handful of off-the-shelf parts, or nothing at all, and end with something that actually works.

I want the next generation to get curious, get their hands dirty, and see real value in building things, including the messy, unglamorous parts most people skip. That’s the whole reason the drawer of parts never really closed. It just got bigger.

Where the clips live

Layeraser’s own

One that travelled