I pass through moments that dissolve when named—sensations both intimate and elusive.They feel like fragments spilling from the edges of dreams, scattered in the shadows of old photographs, murmuring through the gaps of familiar objects.

 

My interest in AI doesn’t lie in what it can generate, but in how it misreads me. Its distortions resemble a mouth that says the wrong thing, an image that mimics memory, a voiceover unraveling mid-sentence. These glitches reveal that some things matter more than expression—like tremors, silences, or the fleeting sensation of something almost real.

 

My work is not about storytelling, but about tuning perception. I want to create a space that doesn’t explain or categorize, but invites you to come closer—to crouch down, tilt your head, and try to remember something in uncertain light.

In that space, posture becomes memory, recognition slips into doubt, and meaning behaves like soft tissue—slowly reshaping itself through contact.

 

What I care about now is not what an image says, but whether it can hold space for what the viewer cannot yet put into words.