STATEMENT
You might find me digging through piles of composted graveyard flowers at the cemetery. Getting my hands dirty with decay, used paper napkins and to-go cups. Manifestations of grief, abject materials from production chains of extraction, loss and life goes on.

You might find me collecting scattered building materials, raised upon now broken dreams of modernization and progress. Diving into urban roadworks. Detangling the entanglement of discarded power cords and rustening plumbing pipes. The open wounds of the city that briefly makes us aware of the infrastructures of bodies and urban planning and how it’s all connected just beneath the surface. 

You will find me supporting support structures. The neglected and frail bodies that sustain the social and societal foundation: the nursing parent,  the racialized cleaning assistant, fungi underground, processes of composting, the rockwool hidden inside the wall, the trunk or cloth casually connecting plinth and main figure in antique marble sculptures. The foundation of storytelling, myths and strong, beautiful heroes, that should not really be noticed, but silently slip into the surroundings. Reasons why main characters can act out their full potentials. Reproductive work, capitalistically unproductive. That which cannot be measured on the bottom line, but forms the foundation for capitalism's continued growth and expansion. 

You will find me working with soil and clay as material testimony that everything on earth is matter made of matter, that has been matter of something else. Acknowledging materials as always carrying history. Materialities over-saturated with information. Processing/casting/putting/making/shapeshifting/I will translate/ Translating matter into works of art, as sticky need to retain these short lived, ephemeral processes by anchoring them as physical objects. Frozen in time as a direct yet still abstract imprint. 

I will keep questioning the western and humanist understanding of a body as a discrete and individual subject, encapsulated by skin as a border. But the body is porous: leaking facilitating exchanges with its surrounding environments. Borders always vulnerable to renegotiation.

And in that way I’ll keep circling around thematics of the seemingly most trivial character as a way of stretching language to accommodate experience.