My sculptures emerge from the belief that matter is never inert.
Every material carries a memory: the fibre of a sheet of paper once belonged to a forest, a fragment of fabric retains the gestures of those who touched it, a discarded object preserves the silent history of its previous life. To sculpt is therefore not to impose form upon matter, but to enter into conversation with the memories already contained within it.
Working with paper, papier-mâché, textiles, plaster, wire, found objects and natural materials, I approach sculpture as a process of transformation rather than construction. Layers accumulate slowly, surfaces are stitched, moulded, wrapped or carved, allowing the work to evolve organically. The final form is never entirely predetermined; it grows through negotiation between intention and material resistance.
This dialogue reflects my ongoing interest in ecological thinking and living systems. Transformation in nature never occurs through isolated events but through continuous cycles of growth, decay and regeneration. My sculptures attempt to inhabit this same rhythm, where fragility becomes strength and what has been discarded acquires new presence.
The body frequently appears within these works, not as an individual portrait but as a landscape in perpetual becoming. Human forms merge with roots, nests, branches, seeds or flowing water, dissolving the boundaries between anatomy and ecology. Identity is understood as something relational, continuously woven through encounters with other forms of life.
Many sculptures retain visible traces of their making. Torn edges, seams, folds, repaired surfaces and accumulated layers are left intentionally exposed, revealing time as an active material. Imperfection is not concealed but welcomed, allowing vulnerability to become part of the aesthetic language of the work.
My sculptural practice naturally extends into installation, where individual forms enter into dialogue with architectural space. Sculptures become fragments of larger ecosystems, temporary environments that invite viewers to move, observe and inhabit relationships rather than objects. Space itself becomes another material—shaped by light, shadow, distance and the presence of the body.
Underlying every sculpture is an ethics of care. The act of collecting, repairing and transforming humble materials resists the culture of permanence and consumption, proposing instead an understanding of art as continuous regeneration. Matter is not consumed but listened to; not exhausted but allowed to speak again.
In this sense, sculpture becomes an ecology of memory—a place where materials, bodies and landscapes encounter one another in an endless process of metamorphosis, reminding us that every ending already contains the possibility of another beginning.
