About the work

The steam rising from the colander, even in this bright light, carries the smell of starch and salt. It’s a familiar smell, a daily act repeated, yet here it feels like a secret ritual. The mannequin stands sentinel, draped in a pattern too vibrant for this grey backdrop, suggesting another life, another purpose, maybe a promised future. But for now, the pasta is the thing, the immediate, tangible present that demands focus. The quiet act of draining, of ensuring the water is gone, feels like a small triumph in a place where larger victories might be hard to come by. There is a settling into the rhythm of necessity here, a kind of peace found in the hands’ knowing work. This is how the day begins, or perhaps how it simply continues, one measured pour after another.