December 2025
Recently, I have been working extensively with video, or more accurately, with a form I continue to not fix within a single definition. Film, video, video art. None of these terms fully contain the practice. Moving image feels more precise, functioning as an umbrella for a body of work that operates across formats, temporalities and modes of viewing.
This recent series takes 3D scanning as both material and methodology. The scans function as points of origin rather than documentation. I began building this archive in early 2023 in Middlesbrough, a town in northern England, where I first scanned a friend standing beside a tree. Over the following months, the archive expanded to include multiple sites, particularly during the period preceding my relocation to the Netherlands. I scanned domestic interiors, my room and eventually an entire house while it was still empty. These acts were driven by a form of spatial longing.
Now, almost three years later, most of these scans remain largely untouched. It still feels premature to consolidate them into a singular, resolved moving-image work. I sense that they require a different temporal distance or perhaps that such a moment may never arrive. This is not a gesture of pessimism, but an acknowledgement of uncertainty.
‘Death’ and the limits of comprehension around it, has always been a recurring concern in my thinking. I do not believe it can be fully grasped, yet it fundamentally structures how moments are perceived and how time is experienced. Even the act of writing, of typing and thinking through rhythm and duration, becomes a quiet reflection on death itself.
I do not reject progress. While I recognize the alienation it produces and actively foreground this alienation within my work, I also understand it as an unavoidable and even generative condition. I am drawn to numbers, statistics and data as aesthetic and conceptual elements. In their apparent objectivity, they operate as counterpoints to subjectivity and polarization. Their rawness carries a particular authority, even as it remains unstable.
In these newer works, I aim to work more intuitively, allowing forms and structures to emerge as imprints of my present time and position. This is not an exercise in self-absorption, but rather an attempt to resist finitude, to defer my own disappearance. I tend toward overstimulation, engaging continuously with systems and processes that do not destroy me, a kind of large-scale self caffeination that keeps time accelerated.
I remain uncertain about my role, or whether I believe in having one at all. Perhaps I operate as a diarist, but one aligned with acceleration rather than introspection. I move alongside technological developments, without attachment to fixed identities or moral zeal. I follow currents while maintaining an internal structure. The thematic vocabulary of my work shifts between seemingly neutral terms such as economy or history, and more explicitly philosophical concepts. I position myself within these fields, drifting, questioning, negotiating meaning in the spaces between them.
With this series, specificity is deliberately avoided. I allow movement, observation, and process to act as primary drivers. The works assemble themselves through accumulation rather than intention, without a predetermined outcome. At its core, the project is existential, responding to the conditions of meaninglessness and excess that define contemporary life. I carry a persistent sense of loss toward transcendence. God is absent. I am searching for a substitute. Politically, I do not operate from resentment, yet I allow a residue of it to surface in the work as friction, as provocation. It needs a place to exist. Constraints, paradoxically make this possible. Within them the series continue.