About the work

Some days, the world feels too big, and you just want to put it all in a bag. Not because you’re leaving, but because you need to know exactly where everything is, precisely how much it weighs, and if it will fit. The ground doesn't care if you've brought too much. The trees don't care. Only you do. And then, there are these other spaces, so small and bright, where everything is already packed in by the walls, by the light. You can’t leave anything behind in a room like that; it would be too obvious. There’s no place for a misplaced thought to hide, no shadow for a forgotten intention to linger. The gnome, perhaps, is a concession to a different kind of scale, a quiet reminder that even the contained can burst.