I keep returning to one question: what remains of the people and places we lose? A colour, a worn object or the light in a room can bring back someone we miss, or a moment we thought we had forgotten. I give these fragments a physical form, allowing them to change as I work. Sadness, humour and tenderness sit alongside one another in the awkward, playful objects I make.
                                                                                                                                                                                    For me, memory is never a complete picture. Some details stay clear, while others fade or blur into dreams. I work in a similar way, adding layers, covering them and scraping them back. Using paint, papier-mâché, coffee, dust and found materials, I build rough, layered surfaces. Some works remain flat; others become three-dimensional forms with corners, openings and shadows.
                                                                                                                                                                                            I am drawn to discarded materials because they hold a history I can only partly know. Their stains, cracks and worn edges become part of the work. I add my own marks to what is already there, turning these fragments into figures and spaces that feel familiar without belonging to any particular person or place.
                                                                                                                                                                                     By working with what has been left behind, I connect past experiences with new possibilities. I leave space for viewers to recognise something of their own and continue the story. I hope my sculptures give viewers room to let their imagination wander and to bring their own memories to the shapes and surfaces. Through these personal associations, the works take on new meanings and become part of stories I could never have imagined.