2026 + – Exhumations

Drawing on my own bodily experiences — birth, childhood, mortality, and the spaces in between — I work with raw and reclaimed materials such as wood, fire, ash, coal and chalk to excavate both past and present conditions. The body and its surroundings unfold as a topography of scars. I do not treat this topography as a record of wounding, but as a surface that continues to hold form after the event that marked it.

2025 – Record Shredder

An in-situ response to the group show On the Road Towards Cul-De-Sac at the In Situ studio. The curatorial prompt addresses the pre-existing systems of the space (new and old heating components, vents, the old petroleum tank, and the materiality of the room), entering the infrastructure to become part of it. Record Shredder generates heat, by overheating, through the act of allowing the viewer to shred a list of Belgian petroleum companies.

2025 + – Nacht (Cycle)

Since the beginning of 2026, I have been exploring the idea of developing a cycle of 'negative paintings.' These works embody the duality of their name: through the use of negative space and the deliberate destruction of a material, I re-interpret an archival image of violence into a tangible, material experience. I turn to negation because the archive itself is incomplete: what survives is partial, and photographs of atrocity have become so widely circulated that they no longer produce the affective response they are meant to carry in first place. By destroying the image rather than reproducing it, I refuse the passive act of looking and replace it with a material encounter that cannot be consumed the same way. The image opening the cycle, cut from a WW2 history magazine, originates from the Warsaw Ghetto archives (1943–44).

2022 + – My Century

In an attempt to make sense of my century, my photographic eye captures the ecological, human and urban traces of ruin, as their processes of decaying actively inscribe themselves into the geological and social landscape. The archive investigates the appearance and consequence of our current condition and what I label a “hurried pull towards the future” (in reference to the twentieth century revolutions) – a self-erasing momentum that rejects the formation of its own past.

The archive follows no clear stream of historicity, but rather presents itself as a study of behavioural repetition across varying socio-political climates that share one thing in common: the pursuit of endless acceleration, at the cost of ecologically balanced cycles of growth and decay. The archive currently spans geographically across Ukraine, Romania, Belgium, Germany, Moldova and Sicily.

2022 – A Bear Trap in No Man's Land

Monuments, documents, and records of collective trauma exist to stand for and contain that which has happened. But in an attempt to lighten the burden of atrocity and barbarism, these mementos simultaneously distance us from the context that birthed them. Through the act of burying and depositing history in monuments and artefacts and by grouping victims into categories and statistics, we are letting a passive silence do the work an active memory should engage. The moment a violence of the past resurfaces, we detach in disbelief and in repetition.  

The publication intertwines two archives that bear witness to the violence of the twentieth century: photographic records (witnesses) and literary reflections (the work of mourning). With facts eschewed to an index in the back, the visual and literary representations affect the reader as they echo the histories that contain them. The project proposes a reflection on trauma and the administration of a regime of tragedy that ensued within as well as characterised the twentieth century.  

Within the installation the publication is accompanied by a collection of photographs which display sites of former concentration and transit camps across Eastern Europe. Eighty years later, as testament to the negligence towards our collective memories, these forlorn sites have become fragmented representations of an inexpressible absence. It is through monuments that a language of heroism rewrites senseless death as martyrdom, thereby annulling the necessity of a work of memory.

2025 – In Flanders Fields lies still

Between 2024 and 2025 I travelled bi-monthly to the former WWI frontline in West Flanders. Here, trees appear shallowly rooted, their young branches twisting into their core, as if bleeding. With my camera and notebook, I traced a landscape pierced by mutilated stumps, barbed wire, and a silence signaling imminent, uncertain danger.

This wounded land does not merely bear the illusion of peace — it reflects a traumatic memory that extends beyond the numerous cemeteries and memorials. Through these lingering scars, I trace the Great War’s impact on language, collective memory, and ‘Othering’. The land does not conceal this war; it continues to write it, branch by branch, into new yet deformed growth. My research argues that any healing must begin by reading these inscriptions, not looking past them.

2019 – The Poetry of Protest

Where protests are part of a systematic, nonviolent campaign to achieve a particular objective, involving the use of pressure and persuasion, they go beyond mere protest as a definition and may better be described as cases of civil resistance, or situations of absolute chaos. The Poetry of Protest takes the form of a publication structured as a poem in three verses: the chants, the chaos, and the aftermath. Amid its scenography of washed-out protest boards, only one remains legible.