My work begins where language falters—at the edge of absence, in the silence left by loss. It is an exploration of memories, death, mourning, and the slow, inexorable passing of time. Rather than offering answers, the work creates a space to feel the weight of impermanence and to reflect on the fragile bonds we carry with those we have lost.

I turn to raw, imperfect materials—paper, ash, earth, coffee, fragments that already bear the trace of time. These substances hold memory; they stain, crumble, and resist permanence. In working with them, I enter into a dialogue with transience itself. Each mark becomes both a record and an erasure, both a gesture of holding on and of letting go.

The figures and forms that emerge are often fragile, dissolving, or caught in states of collapse. They embody grief, but also transformation. To me, death is not an end but a threshold—an opening into silence, into mystery, into what cannot be seen. The work lingers in this liminal space: between presence and absence, remembering and forgetting, being and vanishing.

At its core, my practice is about making room for slowness and reflection. In a culture that denies death and demands speed, I return to stillness, to the elemental, to the cyclical nature of existence. Through the work, I hope to offer viewers not closure, but recognition—a reminder that mourning is also a form of connection, that memory can be both wound and seed, and that time’s passing is not only loss but also renewal.

My art is not meant to beautify death, but to sit with it. To trace its shadows. To honour its presence in every life. And to find, within that confrontation, a quiet form of continuation.