I cast objects in sticky wet tissue paper and when the paper dries, what I peel off carries the form and marks of the original, only it is colourless and weightless. Contrary to traditional sculpture where a mould must be made to create the sculpture, it is the object itself that I use as a mould.

This technique  allows me to capture not only the exact surface of things, but also something more elusive: the space they inhabit, their presence in the world at a given moment.

What interests me is not so much the object itself as the memory of its presence. My paper casts are not reproductions, but resonances of the real —absences made visible, presences in hollow form.

Light and translucent, these forms seem to hover between appearance and disappearance. My work speaks of absence, memory, dream, and impermanence. I am drawn to the phenomenology of perception — to the evocative power of traces, and to what they awaken within us — in our memory, our imagination, our sense of being .

The discovery of Marcel Duchamp’s notion of the infra-thin has profoundly shaped my practice. Poetic and elusive, the infra-thin refers to an imperceptible yet absolute difference between two seemingly identical things — an infinitesimal threshold, a trace, an interval: an object at one moment, the same object a second later, the lingering warmth of a seat just vacated, the space between the recto and verso of a sheet of paper. By giving material form to the tiny interstice that separates an object from the space around it, I like to think that I am materialising Duchamp’s infra-thin.

A humble yet remarkably versatile medium, tissue paper nourishes my search for a sensitive materiality — an exploration of trace, of light, of impermanence. Its delicate, organic surface evokes skin, which I shape into fragile casts, minimalist luminous sculptures, veiled photographs, or Chromatic Compositions where gouache seeps into its fibers in subtle gradients. I never tire of exploring the infinite possibilities it offers.