In my practice, I delve into the archaeology of the unknown, tracing the contours of self topography and the fragments of memory that shape my inner landscape. Through repetitive labor, I document these territories, where paper becomes both the medium and the concept—a transformative vessel that holds the imprints of time, identity, and experience. Paper is not simply a material; it is a dynamic presence that mirrors the ever-changing nature of our understanding of self and space.

The work unfolds through a process of destruction and construction, a constant cycle of trial and error. The sewing machine thrashes through the paper again and again, unraveling, shredding, and cutting until it takes new form. The tension between creation and destruction is not only physical but emotional, as the act itself becomes a form of healing—detaching, disintegrating, and reshaping. Matter and creation become one, a constant flow driven by impulse and unconscious will. The paper is soaked, burned, torn, and stitched—always transforming, always becoming something else. In this ritual of repetition, the materials awaken new aspects of my psyche, illuminating what lies hidden beneath.

Much like an astronaut sailing across empty space, I chart coordinates of my existence—repeatedly mapping and reworking the same territories. Each iteration, each act of creation, is a search for deeper understanding, a quest that neither seeks resolution nor completion. Rather, it is an unfolding process, one that exists in the space between time and being. The outcome is unknown, but through the monotonous work, something emerges—transformation, floating, exposed, breaking through with all its might.

The recurring motif of the astronaut reflects my engagement with isolation and the desire to navigate uncharted territories. These lunar landscapes, with their scars and fragments, are metaphors for my exploration of life, death, and rebirth. The process of working with paper mirrors the constant shift between life and post-life, an exploration of decomposition and renewal. In this, I find an expansive connection to the world around me and the materials I use.

I am not the executor of a finished work; I am the conductor of an ongoing experiment, a scientist of thought and memory. Each piece I create is a record, not of a singular moment, but of the ongoing act of creation itself. It is an expression of the space between states of being, a continuous documentation of the self in relation to the world. The screen is ripped, and transformation emerges—an unstoppable force.

In this way, my work speaks to the poetry of existence—the impermanence of things, the fragments left behind, and the connections we form through the act of creation. It is both a reflection of my internal world and a dialogue with the external, ever-changing space around me.