Two mirrored industrial halls housing a metal workshop and a car repair shop, already full of the quiet appropriations of the people who work there: a platform added for storage, pipes and cables run exactly where they were needed, columns nudged aside for new machines. The project takes that instinct as its method. The workers use their own tools and skills to build themselves a home from what is already there, keeping the main structure and reorganising the rest of the steel into a load-bearing exoskeleton. Nothing is fixed for good: everything can be taken apart again, leaving the building with an open ending.
An experiment in the dissolution of the wall. The same person four times over, child, young adult, adult, ghost, inhabits one room at the same time, separated each time by the same wall in a different reading. The first rotates: a negotiation between wall and door. The second tilts, between wall and table. The third is only a frame, porous, dependent on the contents of the life that fills it. The last is half-height, in the end barely more than a few pipes: very little mass, and yet the separation stays. What remains is a negotiation, with privacy, with oneself, with conflict.
A pendant lamp as an inverted blossom, a flame that grows from the top down. A single leaf folds from rounded triangles, repeated many times over, and opens into the blossom that holds the light. Built from what was already at home, as a gift to my mother.
Baking paper stretched over a fine ribbed frame. The fold repeats a single leaf module until it forms the corolla, the flower’s cup.
An ongoing publication about colour and the ordinary, how a limited palette changes what we notice from day to day. Shot on film, printed by Risograph.
