This body of work explores the boundary between what can be measured and what cannot.
Memories, time, and personal experiences unfold through continuous lines, while engineering annotations bring precision and order to the intangible.
Shades of blue and white recall old blueprints, where fragments of life are traced, measured, and reconstructed.
Is everything measurable? Is there a formula for everything?
Wall-Based Installation
In-Betweens (2026)
Extending beyond individual paintings, a continuous film strip winds across canvases and gallery walls, connecting fragments of different moments into a continuous narrative.
In animation, in-between frames connect key frames to create the illusion of movement. Borrowing from this idea, the installation explores the quiet, often-overlooked moments between life's milestones. Individually, they may seem insignificant, yet together they make up much of the time we remember.
Interactive Wall Installation
The Horizon Is a Home Beyond Return (2026)
I remember this staircase well. Upstairs was home, where I spent my childhood and where so much of my world once fit within a few rooms. In the installation, fragments of that home come together again, and somewhere among them, a child is still there.
From where I stand now, I can look back and see her. But I wonder what she would see if she looked back at me. To her, I am a future she has yet to imagine. To me, she belongs to a home I can never truly return to.
We are the same person, separated by the years it took for one of us to become the other. She had to leave for me to arrive here.
48 × 36 in / 121.9 × 91.4 cm
Acrylic, ink, and coloured pencil on canvas
Round and Round (2026)
The carousel keeps turning.
Children arrive and leave. Seasons pass. The world beyond its circle shifts and changes. Yet the ride continues, tracing the same familiar path over and over again.
Suspended between motion and stillness, the carousel becomes a place untouched by urgency, a small orbit where departures and arrivals seem to coexist.
Round and round.
40 × 30 in / 101.6 × 76.2 cm
Acrylic, ink, and coloured pencil on canvas
Traces (2026)
A tooth remembers.
What breaks does not return to what it was.
Around it, moments collect quietly, some worn smooth by time, others still sharp at the edges.
The years continue. The traces remain.
30 × 20 in / 76.2 × 50.8 cm
Acrylic, ink, and coloured pencil on wood
Up in the Air So Blue (2026)
The swing moves back and forth.
For a moment, I look behind me. A familiar afternoon stretches across the ground, still moving somewhere between sunlight and shadow.
The seat rises. The ropes pull tight.
Mom is always just one swing away.
34 × 34 in / 86.4 × 86.4 cm
Acrylic, oil pastel, ink and coloured pencil on wood
August 24, 2026
Grandma used to stand by this window and wave whenever I came or left.
Now the window is empty. I walk away, turning back again and again, still hoping that one more glance will bring her back to that familiar window.
16 x 16 in / 40 x 40 cm
Acrylic, gouache, color pencil, pastel and ink on paper
16 x 39 in / 40 × 100 cm
Acrylic, gouache, color pencil, and ink on paper
Is Childhood Measurable (2025)
A child steps into the future, carrying pieces of childhood along the way. Behind him, his mother stays, watching as the distance between them slowly grows.
She cannot follow him everywhere. But perhaps a part of her always will.
28 x 20 in / 72 x 52 cm
Acrylic, gouache, color pencil, pastel and ink on paper
Is Memory Measurable (2025)
Memory flows like a film, each frame holding a quiet moment: childhood joy, the warmth of love, a first pet, a newborn child.
These fragments drift gently past, held not by measure, but by meaning.
Is Time Measurable (2025)
From baby onesies to teenage hoodies, the clothesline tells a quiet story of growing up. As the garments grow, they also grow fewer. Eventually, the line is almost empty. What remains is the space between, gently swaying in the wind
18 x 18 in / 46 x 46 cm
Acrylic, gouache, color pencil, pastel and ink on paper