Studio Work

In 2025, I started a regular studio practice working on paper with ink, thread, and found materials. I'm making pieces that question measurement itself, using grids, timestamps, and systematic marks that contain no actual data, just the appearance of information. The Piccole Filosofie series gives everyday objects like threads and tape their own philosophical problems, pairing them with short Italian poems. This work reverses my usual approach: instead of finding poetry in data, I'm adding the structure of data to what comes intuitively.

Piccole Filosofie

In this series that I call Piccole Filosofie Visive, I give everyday materials philosophical problems through composing an image and pairing Italian text. Cotton swabs, thread, tape, scraps of paper - they each get their own emotional concerns and inner lives. The poems avoid literal description, exploring themes from gentle failure to discovery and connection.

I'm having fun letting these be messy - paint does what it wants, things don't line up perfectly, objects from my studio just sit there being themselves. The poems come from watching what happens when I put these materials together. English translations are in the image captions.

The weaving discovers that together you can go in directions impossible alone.

The bouquet of the tired keeps track of all the colors that are no longer theirs.

The gestures meet without following a plan and find harmonies that precision wouldn't have discovered.

The army gathers but forgets who to fight against

They speak together believing they're saying different things.

Something expands without asking and the boundaries forget where they were supposed to be each with their own amnesia.

The friends say goodbye inventing new languages but each understands a different word.

The threads teach the dots how to fly in circles but each color forgets halfway through the flight.

Someone sleeps and the systems continue to draw boundaries around nothing.

In the forest of little sticks where colors drown themselves the heads dream of being feet the crosses count the steps never taken.

The red thread forgets what it was supposed to bind and dances instead among islands that ask for nothing.

Something gets complicated under the eyes of those watching and nobody knows if it's a problem or a solution that's too elaborate.

The marks fall following a law they forget while falling.

Before finishing counting the tangle decides it's fine to stay confused.

Unknown ground reveals itself less frightening when you cross it playing.

Who says it fell and didn't leave first

STUDIO WORK

Studio Work

Piccole Filosofie