My work begins with absence.

When people leave, something remains. I am still trying to understand what that "something" is.

I keep returning to objects that once belonged to someone else, not because they preserve the past, but because they seem unwilling to let relationships disappear completely.

I do not know exactly what survives in these objects. Memory is only one possibility. Sometimes it feels as if relationships continue to exist outside the people who once formed them, moving quietly through photographs, handwriting, furniture, clothing, and other ordinary things.

My work follows these movements. I collect, rearrange, photograph, write, and build books, not to recover what has been lost, but to spend time with what remains.

I wonder whether a relationship ever truly ends, or whether it simply changes its form.

Everything I make begins with that question.