Hush, it’s here.
Powerless, powerless, powerless.
It rolls and grows like fluff in a corner of a room.
It collapsed like dead skin fallen from the body.
It has been trapped like a hair
in the crack of a soap,
kicked up like the dust
from a worn out welcome mat.
It sounds like a television on mute,
humming in the darkness.
It oozed out from an old lamp,
and slipped away through a drain hole.
It has been eaten and digested
and excreted by itself
to develop holes and passages
until it flips inside-out completely.
It dissolved all the barriers.
It will merge, will be faceless at the end.
See? it still has symptoms, fevers
and it reacts.
it passed through ant colonies and the metro.
It could be seen from a peephole,
a telescope or a vision of a grey pigeon.
It is pointing at an emergency exit.
It rules the kingdom in a duvet.
It glinted like a state of anarchy in the eyes.
Surrounded by everyday objects in the living space, I imagine them with a new appearance, material or function. I make them a reality in order to question the ownership between body and object. They are an enquiry into human dysfunction and a loss of autonomy in modern society.
I work intuitively to confront feelings of inadequacy and alienation in this time of efficiency-driven capitalism. I apply handicraft techniques to build up the pieces. A dedicated and time-consuming way of working on a unpractical object is a silent revolt, a use of uselessness, a small power in a society of powerlessness.