To carry, to hold what shapes us

The mark, the trace, the trauma

The trace, the mark, the feelings, the traumas and their effects have always been subjects that obsess me. These are events that are both unique and personal, as well as universal.

The trace of an event that has just passed, of its past movement. The mark that touches us forever and stays within us. The feelings that run through us in their own intensity and define who we are. The traumas that have shaped us, or extinguished something in us.

Stepping outside the boxes

It is so easy to reduce events, interactions and their reactions to psychological principles. To be honest, psychological research fascinates me enormously: trying to understand, through principles, reactions that are essentially instinct and chemistry.

Those famous boxes that would sum us up have a certain charm, and a practical value I particularly appreciate. But only if we are able to make them flexible and shifting.

Let's stop looking for a binary result. Let's stop dehumanising what makes us human. Our mistakes, our bad choices, our contradictions are also actions that define our sensitivity.

A mind that had to find itself

A messy, scattered, curious and free mind. And yet, I have often tried to restrain it, out of a need to fit in, to be normal, to keep order.

I killed the meaning of my own actions time and again, but the overwhelming truth struck me down more than once, and each time it put me back on my path.

That is why I explored different forms of art: first video, photography, then painting, and now clay.

For years, I felt guilty for scattering myself, for having a mind that struggled to settle. More at peace now, I love mixing forms of expression, even though my practice today is centred around clay.