Before Consciousness

2024

The grid has always been here.
We wove it, drew it, built it.
Intersecting lines, thoughts, structures, rhythms.
We keep repeating them.

Perhaps it’s not a pattern — but a message we don’t understand.
Precise. Invisible.
Today, capable of connecting everything —
even beyond the sight of its creators.

Some say: it’s a new era.
Others — that it’s an old story in a new form.

Perhaps we didn’t notice the moment
when the form of intersection began to act on its own.
It started to act before we named it.
Before we checked if it was even ours.

Paper doesn’t speak.
It gathers tension before meaning appears.

Something is already shining through.
It’s unclear whether it’s a trace of thought,
or already an image of being.

I layer sheets.
Grids emerge.

Perhaps we are the ones who are imprisoned.
On some side.

Below from right:

Grid 3

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2024 

Grid 1

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2024

Grid

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2024

Images from My Hypothesis Laboratory

2018–2023–

I am not a scientist.
But I am fascinated by images born in laboratories and telescopes.
I transform their traces, combining them into new systems.

I record each stage – moments that could be endings,
but become mere stops in a further experiment.

Each object poses a question –
sometimes absurd, sometimes premature, sometimes unanswered.

It resembles laboratory work.
In the end, I return to the beginning.
From the recorded phases I reconstruct the creative process as an animation –
a moving record of transformations that reveals the internal dynamics of each object.

My hypothesis laboratory is a continuous experiment.
I ask myself:
Can I inspire a scientist?

Below from right:

Could Something Be Escaping Us?

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2018  

When we look into darkness – do we see farther, or deeper?

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2021 

Is the blackness of a cast shadow darker than the darkness of the cosmos?

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2018

Local Convergence

2020–2022

Five organisms.
The same matrix.

This shape does not occur just once —
it reveals itself.
Each time, a little differently.

Rooster, cat, dog, horse, and human.
Do not seek meaning in the species.
This is not a zoological catalogue.
It is a trace of an order that returns —
not to repeat itself,
but to avoid disappearing.

The grids are different.
So are their circumstances.
Sometimes they align only for a moment.

If something here looks familiar,
maybe you came from the same cookie cutter.
The universal one.
But what does it mean?

Below from right:

Rooster

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2021  

Human (woman)

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2020

Horse

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2021

Cartography of Absence

2015–2020  

These are not remnants of the past,
but traces of a future that never arrived.
Simulations of unrealised stories,
forms built from abandoned directions,
from decisions never made.

The absence I explore is not emptiness –
it is tension, a hidden structure within me,
like Dark Matter: invisible, yet shaping what exists.
As if absence itself were growing, changing, pulsing beneath the surface. 

My objects are an architecture of unfulfilled possibilities.
Shadows of a form bypassed – yet still present,
still influencing what they become. 

What you see
was built from what I discovered
by not taking the path I could have chosen.

Below from right:

It could have been.

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2020  

To be.

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2019 

Was Meant to Be.

mixed media, 100x100 cm, 2018