I am drawn to what is peripheral — to what slips into our minds subconsciously and gently. Found objects are, for me, among such things. Their unobviousness compels me to explore and uncover a level of abstraction that generates new insights, evokes memories, and recalls the past.

Encountering a found material is like conjuring ghosts — you never know what they have to tell you, or where they will plant the seed of sentiment. Through objects, I examine accidental encounters. They become the starting point for working with the abandoned, with peripheral histories, with nonlinear simulations, with archaeology.

These objects are ignored micro-narratives — inhabitants of a world in which nothing is forgotten. They form constellations between my lack of knowledge about them and what I instinctively understand. This lack becomes the trigger for imagination, a search for completion — a kind of adhesive, a binder.

Catherine Malabou writes about sudden, radical transformations of personality — how accident, trauma, or unexpected change can turn identity into something entirely new, made of different matter, discontinuous, stitched together anew. In this context, the ghost, the object, the memory become not so much traces as impulses for change — fragments of a new personality that has not yet been classified.

Like ghosts, abandoned objects are paradoxical — alive and dead at the same time. The archaeology of found things and words is unsystematic, devoid of logic, and yet it swiftly brings forth true memories. Objects and images, like words, resist detachment from meaning — yet they summon new impressions with ease.