About

An ode to unknowledge

My work begins where knowledge ends. Trying to measure and explain everything leaves little room for the magic of “it could be…” 

The reason for my research was a period in which reality was pulled out from under me. A relationship in which I was trapped in a story that was not mine, in which different realities collided, made me realize: what seems real does not have to be shared. That insight was painful, but also the opening to a new kind of freedom. 

I still believe that a shared, unambiguous reality does not exist. But it is precisely that realization that offers space — to play, to search, to recreate. When I inherited thousands of slides from a man I did not know, with landscapes of places that have since disappeared, I felt: I have been there. My imagination became my reality.

This is how I began to investigate time, space and reality. They often seem fixed, but I see them as fluid. What if the past and the future are intertwined? What if you see something that remains invisible to others? And why do we find it so difficult to leave something ‘unknown’? When you look at my work, I invite you to create your own reality. 

 My process is playful and experimental. I usually start with photography, but only through editing — with oil paint, chalk, tracing paper, mirrors, cyanotype or slides — do I add a reality that would otherwise not be visible, but can now be felt. Silhouettes often return in my work. They show how something can be present and absent at the same time. 

 The sentence “Trouve une autre fin à ce conte” from the work of Sophie Calle feels to me like an invitation to think outside of science and reality. To continue where ‘measuring is knowing’ is not enough. To invent a different ending, just when something remains inexplicable. 

For me, time is a story that keeps repeating itself — until I rewrite it.