ABOUT
THE HEALING SYSTEM: SISYMBRIUM.
As I lost my voice, you came
with a bunch of yellow flowers from the sea.
As I lost my voice, you came
with a bunch of yellow flowers from the sea.
Site Specific exhibition_
MADRE_ Margate_ UK_ 2025.
Sisymbrium grows wildly in cracks along city streets. May/June.
hand-formed clay vessels mimic seashore rocks.
Seashore Objet Trouve.
studio work in progress on vintage cotton cloth purchased at the market.
Building facade around Margate adorned with seashore black rocks.
The Healing System is a constellation, a collection of possible invitations: handmade rituals, sculptural forms, organic remnants, gestural drawings, objet trouvé ...
It resists a fixed prescription, instead inviting process, play and intuition.
It’s a space where repair is intuitive, organic and layered: material, emotional, speculative.
Begun in Spring 2024, during a moment of intense life change, this work emerged as a way of listening to what breaks, what endures, and how I begin again. And again. And again.
How the wound heals, and we learn to love the scars that remain.
I found the Sisymbrium (or did it find me?) blossoming through the cracks in the pavement while I wandered the streets of Margate, UK, scouting for a new body of art work.
This weed, growing along roadsides, in street cracks and waste ground, was once revered:
The ancient Greeks believed it to be an antidote to all poisons. In European folk medicine, it soothed sore throats and restored lost voices. Lost voice, my voice. According to some strands of botanical lore, one must enter into dialogue with the plant for it to offer its healing. So I did, I asked ... or rather, I began to draw my prayer.
As we attracted each other, drawn together, I began to paint, draw with chalk, guache and pastels looign for he prper sign. Like a shaman. To trace the beginnings of a conversation. Because healing lives not only in the remedy, but in the act itself.
Another key aspect of my practice is creating a dialogue between the exhibition space that hosted me and the landscape outside.
It resists a fixed prescription, instead inviting process, play and intuition.
It’s a space where repair is intuitive, organic and layered: material, emotional, speculative.
Begun in Spring 2024, during a moment of intense life change, this work emerged as a way of listening to what breaks, what endures, and how I begin again. And again. And again.
How the wound heals, and we learn to love the scars that remain.
I found the Sisymbrium (or did it find me?) blossoming through the cracks in the pavement while I wandered the streets of Margate, UK, scouting for a new body of art work.
This weed, growing along roadsides, in street cracks and waste ground, was once revered:
The ancient Greeks believed it to be an antidote to all poisons. In European folk medicine, it soothed sore throats and restored lost voices. Lost voice, my voice. According to some strands of botanical lore, one must enter into dialogue with the plant for it to offer its healing. So I did, I asked ... or rather, I began to draw my prayer.
As we attracted each other, drawn together, I began to paint, draw with chalk, guache and pastels looign for he prper sign. Like a shaman. To trace the beginnings of a conversation. Because healing lives not only in the remedy, but in the act itself.
Another key aspect of my practice is creating a dialogue between the exhibition space that hosted me and the landscape outside.
I FOUND YOU CRAWLING ON MY SKIN.
I WENT DANCING.
Drawings, Paintings & Live Music Jam Session
with Luke Purbrick + guests.
I WENT DANCING.
Drawings, Paintings & Live Music Jam Session
with Luke Purbrick + guests.
Site Specific Exhibition_
MID STREET LAB GALLERY_ Brighton_ UK_ 2025.
Crawling on glass.
mural painting on glass.
Chalk, guache, pastello
on paper. Vintage red london
hand-painted frames
mural painting on glass.
Chalk, guache, pastello
on paper. Vintage red london
hand-painted frames
pastello. gestural painting.
I found you crawling on my Skin. I went dancing.
Jazz and experimental guitarist Luke Purbrick invited me to join him for an open-door week of improvised live music-visual sessions at Mid-Street Lab in Brighton, UK.
Throughout the week, the gallery transformed into a living laboratory of spontaneous sonic textures and gestural visual exploration, where the boundaries between disciplines dissolve.
Synaesthesia: "sensation in one part of the body produced by stimulus in another," 1881.
Sound meets color, and color answers back: a real-time conversation between music and image.
An ephemeral, unrehearsed experience where audiences were welcome to drop in, observe, and engage with the evolving process.
Jazz and experimental guitarist Luke Purbrick invited me to join him for an open-door week of improvised live music-visual sessions at Mid-Street Lab in Brighton, UK.
Throughout the week, the gallery transformed into a living laboratory of spontaneous sonic textures and gestural visual exploration, where the boundaries between disciplines dissolve.
Synaesthesia: "sensation in one part of the body produced by stimulus in another," 1881.
Sound meets color, and color answers back: a real-time conversation between music and image.
An ephemeral, unrehearsed experience where audiences were welcome to drop in, observe, and engage with the evolving process.
EL ROBO DEL LA PIEL/ THE THEFT OF THE SKIN
/ IL FURTO DELLA PELLE
/ IL FURTO DELLA PELLE
Site Specific exhibition_
Art Residency_ Zacobian_
Palma de Mallorca_ Spain_ 2023.
Art Residency_ Zacobian_
Palma de Mallorca_ Spain_ 2023.
Green Hair female adolescent carring a bat between her hands.(1/3 of the dragon)
guache, chalck and pastello on canvas.
guache, chalck and pastello on canvas.
Unstable System Sculpture.
Black Clay and local stones.
Black Clay and local stones.
Black clay masks—broken, embedded with organic fragments gathered from the local seashore: poseidonia, shells, sea-glass. Brushstrokes of blue paint wash over the surface.
The mask: a second skin. A beauty mask.
A protective layer. A performance.
I wear the mask.
I move through the world.
I take off the mask.
I break the mask.
Or—
what if the mask doesn’t fall by choice?
What if it cracks, splinters
under the weight of my own skin?
The mask: a second skin. A beauty mask.
A protective layer. A performance.
I wear the mask.
I move through the world.
I take off the mask.
I break the mask.
Or—
what if the mask doesn’t fall by choice?
What if it cracks, splinters
under the weight of my own skin?
Woman riding the dragon.
cardboard, metal sheet, mixed paper and other media.
cardboard, metal sheet, mixed paper and other media.
exuviae.
mobile interchangeble sculptures.
white clay, ceramic, greens
and light blue enamel.
mobile interchangeble sculptures.
white clay, ceramic, greens
and light blue enamel.
HERBARIUM FLORENTIS
Looking for the Pagliano Secret Herbarium around Florence.
Among frescoes, ironworks, sculptures, craftsmanship, and wild herbs: hidden gems. Reflecting
on the former life of the Palazzo that hosted me, I began to create an herbarium: notes gathered from the outside world now hang on the wall.
I experiment with local clay, recalling the faded colors of the walls—traces, remnants, reminiscences.
Among frescoes, ironworks, sculptures, craftsmanship, and wild herbs: hidden gems. Reflecting
on the former life of the Palazzo that hosted me, I began to create an herbarium: notes gathered from the outside world now hang on the wall.
I experiment with local clay, recalling the faded colors of the walls—traces, remnants, reminiscences.