About the work

The grocery list, almost hidden in the fringe of the rug, seems entirely out of place here. It’s too domestic, too mundane for the swept-clean space that radiates a kind of sacred quiet. Perhaps it was tucked there by accident, a momentary resting place for a forgotten task, or perhaps intentionally, a small anchor to another world for someone about to step out into the roar of noon. This paper, soft with handling, suggests a life beyond the precise order of this room, a thought of something else while hands are busy with tools. It's a tiny, folded secret, a reminder that even in spaces dedicated to craft, the larger fabric of existence tugs at the edges. The dust, however diligently swept, will always return, just as the future will always interrupt the present.