ARTIST STATEMENT

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To listen is to stay.
To stay is to allow the world to reveal itself.

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I approach the body as an instrument of perception, a site through which the intimate and the planetary intersect. My work begins with an act of attention — entering a place, encountering a material, listening to what is present and what remains beyond immediate perception. Working across performance, photography, moving image, sound, sculpture, installation, neon and text, I investigate how we inhabit the world, how we relate to one another, and how forces beyond our control enter even the most intimate aspects of our lives.

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Listening is both a method and a position. It requires attention, duration and a willingness to encounter uncertainty without surrendering agency. I am interested in what becomes perceptible when we resist the impulse to define, possess or resolve too quickly — when we allow a place, a material, a relationship or a question to reveal its complexities. Listening is not passive acceptance. It involves discernment, the courage to confront what emerges, and the recognition that being present does not always mean remaining. Sometimes, listening reveals the necessity of change.

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I often begin by placing myself, a material or a gesture within conditions I cannot fully anticipate or control. A body enters someone else's interior, responding to its atmosphere and the traces of another life, unsettling assumptions about intimacy, ownership and belonging. A photographic material responds to volcanic heat and atmosphere, allowing the landscape to leave its own traces. Six illuminated lines form a fragile structure whose stability depends upon their mutual support. A word holds two opposing possibilities: I am now here and I am nowhere.

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In the Arctic darkness, a solitary light marks human presence within a landscape shaped by extraction, infrastructure and geopolitical interests. During a solar eclipse, a human gesture unfolds within a fleeting celestial alignment, bringing the brevity of bodily presence into relation with planetary time. Across these encounters, the body is never entirely separate from its surroundings. Materials, language, technologies and environments do not simply illustrate an idea; they participate in determining what the work becomes.

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I am drawn to the moments when something familiar begins to shift — when a room becomes unfamiliar, when a material behaves unexpectedly, when a structure reveals its vulnerability, or when a word changes meaning before our eyes. Questions of trust, memory, time, power and belonging move through my practice, from the vulnerability of an individual body to the institutions, infrastructures and geopolitical systems in which we are implicated. I am particularly interested in how relationships are sustained, who determines their conditions, and what happens when those conditions begin to change. The personal is never entirely separate from the political, nor the local from the planetary.

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Through long-term research and site-responsive processes, I explore the limits of what we can know, measure and control. Technologies extend our senses, but also shape what becomes visible, audible or legible — and what remains beyond our attention. Materials retain traces of encounters and continue to change beyond our intentions. Landscapes carry histories and forces that exceed human timescales. I question the assumption that human beings stand apart from the environments and systems they seek to understand or control.

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I do not seek to resolve these tensions. I create situations in which they can be experienced, questioned and held open. I am interested in what happens when certainty gives way to attention, when the familiar becomes unfamiliar, and when listening challenges what we believe we know. Contradictions need not be reconciled for something to be revealed.