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work / about / contact / home
We Don't Make New Work (2025)
Hand-knitted yarn
Piles of Dirty Clothes (2025)
Hand-knitted yarn
Curtain I: Tango (2025)
Chalks on paper
Curtain II: Tiles (2025)
Graphite on paper
Dialogue on the Possibilities of Making (2025)
Performance
Tap (2025)
Unglazed ceramics, candles
Things That Nobody Knows But Me (2024)
Wood and fabric
Lecture on Stillness (2024)
Performance
At Times Another Lonesome Stranger (2024)
50 mt. long outdoors installation, two banners on metal poles
Who's the Monster Now (2023)
Papier-macher and wool
Asterion I (2022)
Video
work / about / contact / home
We Don't Make New Work (2025) & Piles of Dirty Clothes (2025)
Hand-knitted yarnAfter making a text-based banner as part of my graduation show in 2024, I started exploring the various ways of "screaming" something out in the world through banners. My intent with At Times Another Lonesome Stranger was to break into public space with an unsettling, intimate reflection. Once the idea was there, the production of the work was quick and easy. So I started thinking of a different way of working: a banner that is made for an inside space, a symbol of home, of time that is wasted on the couch without a clear idea of what one is doing.
We Don't Make New Work and Piles of Dirty Clothes are the first of an (ongoing) series of works made with the following method: I start knitting one letter, and see what follows. The outcome is a slowed-down thought. While I knit a letter, I have plenty of time to decide on the next one. I can change my mind. Decisions are taken throughout days, not in seconds. Given the previous research I had made on inner monologue and stillness (that had me look, for example, to "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot and the movie "Der Himmel uber Berlin"), I found that these works were best able to channel the idea of an almost still inner monologue - an idea that is almost an oximoron.
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Tap (2025)
Unglazed ceramics, candlesA pair of two sculptures that resemble rudimentary taps, where, instead of water, the wax of a lit candle drips out of the faucet.
Two aspects of this installation are particularly important to me:
Repetition, as the "doubleness" of the tap suggests an expanding space - a possibly infinite space - something that I personally refer back to my older research on the Minotaur and, in this case, his labyrinth;
and the slow disappearance of the candle, which leaves behind a pile of dripped wax. To me, this hints to the expansion of time - an infinite time that looks always the same, except for tiny details.
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Dialogue on the Possibilities of Making (2025)
PerformanceThe sound of a written interaction being read out loud is the music to which two tango dancers improvise. As the dancers' moves are created on the spot, the text echoes an artist's difficut process of making decisions about his work. The script is a fictional representation of a real conversation between me and my partner, Milan, who recites his own lines the way I wrote them down. The goal is to achieve a sort of tension between various layers of the performance: the moment in which the real conversation happens, the way it is transcribed by me (the only one who has power over what both interpreters say), and the re-materialization of the interaction through movement rather than words - completely out of my or Milan's control.
The tango dancers are my mum and her dancing partner. I chose to perform with my mum because it was she who introduced me to the art of language, first, and to the language of tango, later.
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Lecture on Stillness (2024)
PerformanceMaking use of the implicitly hierarchical structure of lectures, with the assumption that whatever I say is what is, I tell the audience I am going to demonstrate that space transforms according to one's needs. Demonstration after demonstration, I find myself immersed in an imaginary maquette of my room, where size and space seem to have completely lost their consistency.
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At Times Another Lonesome Stranger (2024)
50 mt. long outdoors installation, two banners on metal polesFULL TEXT
"Fortune assists the braves, says my grandma, and she also says that laughter is plenty on the mouth of fools. I don’t care about the shape of my planet any more than I care about the shape of my actual surroundings. These well painted windows of tall buildings and their pointy roofs, the roofs of a country that knows how to endure rain. It is raining right now. But a few metres away it’s sunny. I look up to the guilty cloud that lingers above me, a small cloud, but persistently humid, insistently still in the otherwise empty sky. Patchy rains like this have been going on for the past weeks. I know they are after me, because I seem to be constantly in it while everyone else stands just outside. At times another lonesome stranger walks or sits very close to me and I think they’re in it, too, until I look better and realise they don’t get wet. Rain in Italy was less patchy and more of a shared experience. It happened all at once for the whole year: six weeks straight, then nothing. There was no doubt when getting out of the house whether to bring an umbrella: either a hard yes or a hard no. The sky would stay dark and oppressively close, like a lid above the city, and no one was mad about it. Instead, we all looked forward to diving in the top shelves of our family wardrobes, and getting out forgotten hats and scarves, waterproof clothes, and heavy coats that would only come in use for this short time".
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Who's the Monster Now (2023)
Papier-macher and woolI am scared of mice, and they too are scared of me.
After researching monstruosity in relation to mythological creatures (like the Minotaur), I turned to uncanny encounters like that between me and the mouse that lives in my walls.
Here, the viewer is invited to "feel small" by experiencing the perspective of the mouse.
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Asterion I (2022)
VideoThis work is one of three videos that I recorded as part of my research sprouted from the short story "The House of Asterion" by J. L. Borges. In each of the videos I enact parts of a long poem in which aspects of my life in the Netherlands (a foreign place to me at the time) are intuitively compared to elements of the short story: the architecture of my everyday environment is compared to a labyrinth, the crowd of people speaking a different language is compared to the crowd that Asterion despises because they don't accept him as one of them, the person I fell in love with who didn't love me back is compared to the ambivalent figure of Theseus, coming to both kill and liberate Asterion.
"Asterion I", in particular, is a 9 minutes long video in which I balance on the tip of my toes in a corner of a basement, wearing a plaster hunchback that weighs me down. The corresponding part of the poem is:
I found a little corner that is new / that is, it seems new to me. Maybe / it's the new shape of the shadows /maybe the fog / maybe the plaster has come off / maybe it's the same corner as before / and I forgot to mark it.