Places do not end when we leave them. They continue within us, reshaped by memory, loss, and the passing of time. For my first solo exhibition, I approach the house not as a building to be reconstructed, but as something unstable: a field of feeling dispersed across fragments, surfaces, and echoes.

Working across photography, sound, painting, plaster, and fabric, I do not try to document a lost home. Instead, I trace what lingers. Textures that recall walls. Impressions pressed into soft materials. Sounds that appear and fade, much like memory itself. These gestures are not about seeing from a distance, but about touching, encountering, and feeling presence in absence.

What emerges is not a single story. Childhood, family, grief, and recent loss overlap and fold in on themselves. Time no longer moves in a straight line. The domestic space becomes vulnerable rather than secure, fractured, layered, incomplete.

The paintings of women alongside olive trees do not offer resolution. They suggest endurance. The olive tree, rooted and weathered, becomes a symbol of persistence, of continuing in the presence of absence.

This exhibition is not a sequence but an environment. You are not standing outside looking in. You move through an architecture of perception, where meaning is not given, but emerges through stillness and encounter. What you will find here is not a house rebuilt. It is a house that remains, unresolved, fragile, and deeply alive.