Years, Days (2026-ongoing)

When you touch a stone, it feels surprisingly soft and alive, almost like skin. And just like skin, stones carry their histories in their layers, veins, cracks and furrows. Past events remain present, as visible traces.

What do stones and photographs have in common? They both record time. A stone carries the memory of deep time; a photograph captures a fraction of a second. What is the timescale of a human body?

When you touch a stone, you are touching the past. Memories, however, cannot be touched. I forget – or seem to have forgotten. I don’t know where my memories, my childhood or my father have gone. They are air, they have evaporated somewhere. 

Do stones forget? Past events are recorded in stones, but they are not a complete or stable archive. A stone’s history is marked by erasures and overwritings. Marble, for example, is a metamorphic stone. Much of what it once held is gone, while what remains has been transformed into something else.

In Years, Days, I combine old medical images with natural stones sourced from surplus production. Each stone is unique. Each work is like a double exposure: two layers seen at once but separate. The women and the stones do not form a closed unit. There is air between them, space to move and to breathe.