With this series, I’ve gone deeper into something that had already been
forming—though nameless, though still undefined: the stitching together
of painting and writing. It all began with a poem I wrote in 2014, after
watching the film Mother and Daughter by Petrus Cariry. The film’s images
hit me like a memory that wasn’t just mine—but one that made me
remember myself. Something forgotten. Something that never happened.
The poem is called The Feeling of What Never Was. And maybe that’s
exactly what this whole series is trying to do: feel what wasn’t.
Memory in Motion is both an unfolding and a return. It's an attempt to
face the present—this still-blank canvas—without erasing the marks of
the past. I observe everyday life. I live it. I document what it leaves in me—
the gestures, the silences, what endures, what transforms. I try to find, in
the simplest things, a way to listen to the singular. I believe these unique
moments are always waiting to be discovered—again and again—as long
as we shift our perspective. As long as we take our time. As long as we
insist. And it’s in this shift of gaze that I still find reason to believe—that
there are things worth preserving, and changes that must happen.
In a time when so much is being lost, when so much is being destroyed, I
felt the need to return to what is essential to me. Painting and poetry have
always been part of my life. And now, they walk side by side in this series—
two different ways of expressing the same unspeakable thing. Between
childhood and adolescence, there are images—overlapping, fragmented,
returning in new forms. These are the images I offer now—maybe as
material for reflection, maybe as a trace, maybe simply as a way to listen.
Series: Memory in Motion