Sidewalk Whispers
Serries of Scanned Images
2020-ongoing
Throughout recent years, I have embraced walking
as a ritual — an act of resilience and a practice of endurance. Wandering through the streets, public spaces, parks and corners, I have made a habit of walking through my feelings. During these walks, I notice and collect objects that evoke desire, reflect inner states, or act as emotional mirrors.
Often, I am drawn to flowers and plants that have managed to grow through asphalt cracks, between paving stones, or in overlooked public spaces. I also collect remnants, traces, and fragments of things that were once whole or once used — a partially deflated balloon, shards of porcelain, scraps of advertising flyers fallen from mailboxes, a tiger-patterned piece of clothing, sometimes stones, or fragments of discarded toys.
Often, I am drawn to flowers and plants that have managed to grow through asphalt cracks, between paving stones, or in overlooked public spaces. I also collect remnants, traces, and fragments of things that were once whole or once used — a partially deflated balloon, shards of porcelain, scraps of advertising flyers fallen from mailboxes, a tiger-patterned piece of clothing, sometimes stones, or fragments of discarded toys.
These objects come home with me.
I scan them using various flatbed scanners, a process known as scanography, which captures three-dimensional objects while introducing distortions, fractures and artifacts. This technique transforms the object into a visually poetic abstraction.
The repetition of this practice — walking, noticing, collecting, and translating — has become a quiet ritual. In its persistence and constancy, I find a form of resistance, a small but steady gesture of care and continuity.
The repetition of this practice — walking, noticing, collecting, and translating — has become a quiet ritual. In its persistence and constancy, I find a form of resistance, a small but steady gesture of care and continuity.
