A unsettled feeling A floating vista
A wanderer’s eyes,
A temporal window
A exiled voice
A way of being.

This is how to get to know me and my work. *
 











































Go  paint  a  white  wall  white  again,
Do  nothing.
Feel  the  weight  of ...
Touch me.
Be  vulnerable  to  me.

Open  me  heavily
The  sunlight  pass  through  me  lightly.

Cover the whole room
Folding the space.

Install a line between two buildings.
Do something until we meet,
until it has been consumed.

I  want  you  to  trepass  me,
to  break  rules,
to  be  as  fragile  as  me.
I  want  you  to  look  inside
come  to  me,  as  you  are  as  you  were.


I live in multiple temporal spaces, I have a specific sentimentality towards spaces. (cities, landscapes, plazas, hotels, etc.)

In everyday life, in constant loss, in constant fragmented aphasia, in flux, my practice involves the act of exile and wandering. Moving through, floating through, fleeting through and returning back. Because everything is not rigid in my eyes, I feel that my works plays with idea of instability and resilience. And they are being articulate in a poetic way that explore the eradication and reimagining of my past roots and being.

As I wander within my body, outside of myself, landscape that seem to have met before tangled together to form rivers and paths. Things continuously returning back, recalling my most original impressions (childhood). Searching and finding the traces that imprinted in my body, (in this dark land.)

In the days of leaving (my hometown), the shadows I left before always pulled me and lingered in my vision. They grow more and more, pervading like bubbles, wrapping me in a bubble for dozing. These shadows create eternally unchanging dreams, polishing the stone in my mind day by day. Every day, new physiognomies, new landscapes, and new cultures rushing over my vision constantly beat on me; gradually, their forms concealed in the earliest days emerge. Things that return to me at particular times.