The everyday is an invisible scene, where objects, sounds, and presences eventually disappear into their own repetition.
This exhibition is rooted in a specific place: the countryside as I know it—its images, its places, its barking. It was the barking that crystallized the starting point for the title white dogs, melody. First, signs of warning or presence, they eventually became, to my ear, an inaudible melody, a buried pattern, almost forgotten. A background noise absorbed, digested, integrated.

This exhibition questions that disappearance: the vanishing of the familiar image, seen and heard too often. Through sheer habit, what is present is no longer seen. And yet, these familiar forms—the sun-bleached poster along a rural road announcing the upcoming monster truck show, the wallpaper from our childhood home rediscovered in adulthood, the plastic sleeve containing a missing cat flyer soaking in a puddle of rainwater, the rust streaks from hundreds of staples on the local notice board, the yellowing metal sheets rusting at the back of the garden, the “for sale” or “for rent” signs—continue to resonate within us.
Here, the aim is to restore to them a sense of clarity, disturbance, strangeness.

By analogy, slippage, or extraction, my forms seek to awaken these images buried in our habits. They are neither archives nor fictions: they are attempts at re-perception, at ostranenie—that term which refers to the art of making the familiar strange once again.