“What remains” was made during and after a period of separation, and reflects on the shifting nature of a shared life that has changed.

Printed on domestic fabrics — pillowcases, tea towels, clothing — the images draw from personal archives. These materials carry the weight of everyday life, holding traces of intimacy, routine, and care.

The fabrics are not fixed. They can be touched, moved, and passed through. As you move along the corridor, you are invited to navigate the works physically — to bend, duck, and shift your body in relation to them. The act of moving through becomes part of the work itself.

As with memory itself, the images are unstable. They fade, blur, and fragment through the cyanotype process, resisting clarity. What remains is partial — a reconstruction shaped as much by absence as by presence.

In moments of loss, memory does not simply disappear, but alters. It softens, rearranges, and sometimes contradicts itself. Different versions of the same past begin to emerge, without resolution.

The works do not attempt to fix or preserve what has been, but to sit within this uncertainty — between holding on and letting go.

The space continues beyond the hanging works. Moving through them leads to a final point at the end.

At the end of the space, a moving image presents fragments of everyday life. Without narrative or conclusion, it gestures toward continuation — the quiet persistence of life beyond what has changed.