Long Term Diary, 2020-ongoing
Still life is never still.
Objects carry the weight of time, of presence, of absence.
Silent witnesses to history, objects of admiration.
I gather them—not just things, but fragments of memory, echoes of touch.
I shift them, strip them of their function, listen to their quiet stories.
A cup is no longer a cup.
A thread unspools into something unnamed. In their silence, I find voices.
To pause, to notice—to feel the weight. That is what I seek.
I compose, I unmake, I begin again.
Each arrangement is a question, a reflection, a self-portrait in disguise.
Still life is never still.
It moves with us, through us.
And in its quiet presence, we might just hear ourselves.
