Humancipating the digital, virtual, and artificial — claiming space in every dimension with the human touch, head, and heart. A homage to humanity. Drawn to its diversity. Fascinated by its flaws.
Think about the last time you scheduled free time to clear your head. Now think about the last time something stopped you in the street — a piece of art you didn't expect, a conversation you didn't plan. Which one stayed with you longer?
That's the difference between controlling time and using the now. We spend enormous energy structuring our days, but the things that actually become moments — the ones we look back on — were never scheduled. The now is the access point to those moments. You don't force them. You create the conditions to receive them.
Nowalism doesn't exist as a word. I think that's beautiful. It makes it equal to the moment itself — something that slips the second you try to hold it. Both of them, in my view, are lost arts. I created and use the word as a constant reminder to myself: to create in the now, to stop deciding where the line goes before I've drawn it. I am a control freak who has to prove this to himself every time he picks up a brush, draws a line in the dark, or puts words together in an unexpected order.
Now you are here. Here you are now.

Long-exposure photography used as a drawing tool. The line exists only in the mind's eye while it's being made — invisible, unrepeatable, impossible to plan. The result feels like meeting someone for the first time. Every piece is unique because it cannot be otherwise. Light painting isn't made for perfection. It lives on acceptance of whatever it brings.

One-line portraits pushed into the third dimension — drawn by hand in virtual space, then brought back into physical reality through 3D printing. Bringing imperfection into a medium built for precision is the whole point. It expands what accepting hand-drawn qualities can mean.

Spray paint and dipsticks demand constant flow — the moment you hold back, the line betrays it. Staining is the same: I can't control where it goes, but I can work within it. These mediums are chosen precisely because they resist control. Not improvising. Expanding acceptance.

Every portrait drawn in one continuous line, with no sketch, no plan, no going back. I call them The Ones. Each is a record of a moment of trust — a small proof that letting go produces something worth keeping. When a mistake happens, it is usually the best thing in the drawing.
Originals, limited prints, books, commissions, and a catalogue for those who want to go deeper.
A rotating selection of originals and limited-edition prints. Not everything is available at once — pieces come and go as they're made and as they sell. What's here now is what's here now.
See what's available ↓Think of it as a one-line rollercoaster into calm, with a portrait waiting at the end. More than 30 portraits to follow and finish. Add colour after if you like — no rules, no pressure. Available as a physical book (€32.50) or a digital download (€11).
Get the book →A printed catalogue — exclusive, not free. €45. It shows work that doesn't live in the gallery, suggests prices and possibilities, and opens a direct conversation. For collectors who want more than a website can show.
Request the catalogue →A sculpture made of light, drawn by hand in your space. Invisible while it's being created. Captured through long exposure. Printed and framed to hang in the exact room where it was made. A record of a moment that can't be replicated — yours, in your space, on your wall.
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A single line, chosen to live on skin permanently. Custom designs, made personally — and three formats that don't exist anywhere else.
Tattoo designs have been part of this work for years. Always personal, always contact-first. Get in touch with what you're looking for — I'll draw something that's yours alone, in a single line.
A one-line portrait drawn in light — captured through long exposure, refined into a tattoo design. Unrepeatable by nature. No two light-painting tattoos are the same, because no two light paintings can be. Something you wear that genuinely couldn't exist twice.
A one-line portrait sculpted in virtual space. Because the sculpture exists in three dimensions, it can be viewed — and tattooed — from any angle. One sculpture, 360 possible designs. You choose the perspective. No one else gets the same view.
An ongoing series of one-line portraits — every face a different moment, every line drawn without knowing where it ends. A record of humanity in progress. The series is becoming a book: an edited collection of the portraits that stayed, in a smaller and more accessible format. If you want to know when it's available, get in touch.
The full story: how I came to understand what being present actually means, and how to get there by using the now. In many ways, it's everything else on this site said out loud.
The talk is built from 12 subjects — spanning VR, AI, 3D printing, humancipation from digital realms, Nowalism, and more. Each audience selects 3 or 4, so no two talks are ever the same.
I keep the full contents off this page deliberately. They're personal — and valuable to the people in the room. Which is exactly why those people should be in the room.
Invite me to speak →One planet. More than eight billion different worlds — each one its own landscape of memory, habit, hope, and ordinary days. And still, somehow, all of it connected.
The One Planet Project is an ongoing visual investigation into that connection. Not the kind we talk about. The kind that exists whether we acknowledge it or not.
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My name is Niels Kiené. I've gone by Salventius since I was twelve years old. The name came from a dream — I was in a metro station with a derailed train and a sinkhole in the middle of the platform. As I approached it, two werewolves in college wrestling outfits jumped out. With them came a voice from the depth, repeating: Salventius. Salventius. Salventius. I used it as my gamertag first, then as everything else. I've stopped being shy about where it came from.
Before that — when I was four — I made a drawing of an airplane writing my name in the sky. In one continuous line. I don't remember drawing it. My mother kept it.
I studied filmmaking. I spent years working in the creative industry — concept-driven, client-oriented, always result-focused. I needed something to stop the part of my brain that never switches off. In 2011 I started drawing portraits in a single line, with no plan, no sketch, not knowing where each line would end. The focus it demanded felt like relief. I was not in control — at least not in any fully conscious way. The not knowing kept me going.
Drawing portraits makes me feel as if I understand people and society a little better. Every face is a study in something universal. I'm still trying to draw the one portrait that contains all of them.
Collaborations are how the work reaches further than a single studio can. Over the years this has meant working with Zara, Way of Wade, Polaroid, Mazda, Deloitte, and others — not just for the aesthetics of the work, but for what it means underneath. Concepts, storylines, event art, 3D work, light-paintings, words. Language is as much a material as a brush.
If there's something here worth exploring together — a brand, an event, an idea that needs a line drawn through it — let's talk.
Zara · Way of Wade · Polaroid · Mazda · Deloitte · and more
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