Jasper Quattrone grew up in Tarrytown, New York, thirty miles up the Hudson from the city he always felt pulled toward. Both of his parents are artists. That detail is not incidental. It meant he grew up understanding that making things is a legitimate way to move through the world, not a fallback or a phase, but a serious mode of being in it.
He attended Tulane for one semester before leaving. Not because it wasn’t working socially. He found people there he expects to know for the rest of his life. He left because the classroom felt like the wrong environment for the way his mind works. He kept asking himself why he was sitting in a room learning to draw a four-quadrant general ledger when a computer does it in two seconds. The question led to a bigger one, and the bigger one led him home.
He does not frame this as dropping out. He frames it as a decision about neuroplasticity. About what you let your brain grow around during the years when it is most open. If those are the years when understanding is most fluid, he would rather spend them making things than studying a model built for a different era.
Back in New York, he founded 1104 Productions, a creative studio through which he works across photography, film, and production. He directed several short films, including the motor inn, supported by the Russ Hogg Grant for Creative Expression. He is currently contributing on the production side of a feature film in pre-production. He is writing his own feature screenplay called TENDER, a longer-term project he describes as a creative representation of his times and his experience of moving through them.
His visual work runs parallel. The Six Pack series is a collage-based project built by hand from media clippings, found objects, and printed matter. A time capsule assembled out of sequence, using fragments of the past to say something about the present. He is also developing Guarantee Healing, a New York design brand whose first product launches this year. The name is deliberate. The objects are not promises. They are things made with stories already inside them, designed to be lived with rather than simply owned.
Now he is stepping in front of the camera. He comes to modeling and acting the way he comes to everything else, from behind it first. Years of directing and shooting through 1104 gave him a working knowledge of how a frame is built, how light changes a face, how stillness can carry more than movement. He knows what a director is looking for because he has been the director. That is what he plans to bring to every collaboration. Not just presence, but partnership.
The references he keeps returning to are Daido Moriyama, Maison Margiela, Wes Anderson. Work with its own gravity. Campaigns treated like art projects. Films that reward a second viewing. That is the room he is trying to get into.
The most challenging part of his career so far, he says, has not been on set. It has been the quiet days, alone in the house, trying to wrangle his brain into stillness long enough to actually build something. We live in a world that rewards motion and visibility, and the pressure to be doing, posting, and performing is constant. But the real work, the writing, the conceptual thinking, the building of Guarantee Healing and TENDER, happens in the silence. When no one is watching and there is no external validation telling you you are on the right track.
He journals every day. In meetings, in his free time, sober, not sober, always writing. Not for an audience. A real record of a creative life as it is actually being lived.
He is looking for artist spaces in New York and collaborators anywhere in the world. People who throw themselves at the work. Who don’t wait for the right moment because they understand the right moment is whenever they decide to start.
He is eighteen years old and building in every direction at once. Not because he hasn’t decided what he is, but because he has. He is an artist, and this is what that looks like when you refuse to let anyone else define the shape of it.
