Status Pending

Two words. Heard so many times that they stop being language, and become sound, texture, feeling, a bruise on paper. Each time the body returns to the office, to the waiting, the ink responds differently. It thickens with frustration, blurs with exhaustion, bleeds beyond its borders, or fades until only traces remain. No two impressions are the same, though the words never change. The form absorbs what the body carries, the weight of coming back, and the refusal to stop coming back.

What does repetition do to language? What does it do to a body that keeps showing up?

Part of the installation project behind the scenes

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black ink stamp on paper • video, loop • 2025