Patterns are bound to form, paths eventually repeat.
We occupy different spaces, take up different shapes; the definition of a home shifts as we coil towards honesty. Certain people feel inexplicably familiar at times because we must have known them before. The notion of “home” becomes tied to the presence of those who belong to us, and to whom we belong.
Time and time again, I return to who I belong to. We ingest each other’s exhaled air and sloughed skin. We ingest the skin of the tables and chairs of our shared room. Everything is succulent, we eat and are eaten in the end. A mundane vulnerability exists only here.
Then, I’ll take my leave once more. A cyclic return will run its course in due time, the integrity of our shared room ebbs and flows, but remains ever-present.
My practice in furniture and objects navigates through this sentiment of discovering the private moments within the space we occupy together. Each piece is a recurring domicile which considers the raw intimacy of each return.