Written with Suno.
Every song is composed and produced with Suno. The voice you hear is generated — but the lyrics are chosen line by line, listened to a hundred times, and only kept if they ring true.
Liva is not a person. She's a project — a slow, deliberate one — and I want to be open about how she's made.

She's a character I made up — a fictional Danish singer-songwriter — and a project I've been quietly building over long days at a desk with a few monitors. There is no real Liv Stenbjerg waking up at sunrise with a guitar. There is me, with a lot of open tabs, hundreds of discarded takes, hours that turned into days, and the stubborn refusal to accept the first thing a prompt gives back.
I built Liva because I wanted to live inside a particular mood — warm, slow, attentive to the small things — and the tools we have now made it possible to build a whole world around that mood. They didn't do it for me, though. They did what I couldn't have done alone — give her a voice, a face, the textures of a world — but the choices were mine to make, one slow decision at a time.
I'm not a musician. I'm not a singer. But I am a writer — observant about life, attentive to the small things — and the lyrics in Liva's songs are mine. They come from real noticings, real moments, the kind of details that stay with me. What AI gave her was a voice and a face. What I brought was the looking, the words, and the willingness to sit with a tool until it gives back the thing I actually meant. The result is a project made with AI, not by it.
Every song is composed and produced with Suno. The voice you hear is generated — but the lyrics are chosen line by line, listened to a hundred times, and only kept if they ring true.
Liva's portraits come from ChatGPT. The dreamlike video sequences come from OpenArt. The character sheets, the outfits, the cafés in Da Nang — all generated, all curated, all chosen with intention.
This website is built with Claude Code, line by line. The music videos are edited in CapCut — mostly by ear, mostly by feeling, until the cut lands where it should.
What's mine in Liva is the looking, and the words. Every lyric is written by me — from real moments, real noticings, real feelings — long before Suno sings a note. The rest is everything the tools can't decide: which take feels alive, which shot makes you slow down, the mood the songs are reaching for, the colour palette, the pace of how a release lands, what a blog post should be about that week.
AI is the medium. The words, and the work, are mine.
If your feelings while listening have been real — and I hope they have — then those feelings are still yours. The room is still here. You're still welcome in. I just wanted you to know who built it, and how.
Is the music AI? The compositions and the voice are generated with Suno. The lyrics are written by me — every one of them, from real moments. The song concepts and what makes the final cut are mine too.
Is Liva a real person? No. She's a fictional character. Liv Stenbjerg is a stage name for a project, not a stage name for someone living.
Are the photos and videos real? They're real images and real videos — but they're generated, not photographed. ChatGPT for stills, OpenArt for video sequences, CapCut for editing.
Is the blog written by AI? The blog is written by me, often with AI as a writing partner — the way some people write with a friend on the phone. The voice, the choices, and the things being said are mine.
Why be open about it? Because I'd rather you know than not know. Because the moment we're in — where AI is becoming part of how art gets made — deserves honesty more than it deserves illusion. And because I think the work holds up better when you can see how it's built.
Liva is, in a way, a kind of mood I wanted to live inside. The tools just helped me build the room.