How long is the life of a stone, an eraser, or a flavour? When does an object end its life? Is it when a piece of furniture or a plastic bag becomes unusable, when it loses its function? Or are they dead to us the moment we abandon them, with their lives ending for us with this separation? Or do objects die when they decompose into pieces? Or burn into dust? Or when their body totally vanishes? But still the memory of an object may linger in the minds of those people who made contact with it.
No matter if these objects had been forgotten, destroyed, ignored from any of us, their story still keep going. Their stories may become more interesting and in some cases, an old diary, a piece of driftwood or a scar find expression on the object’s surface and inner soul. That is why I usually use found material in my work. I am intrigued by how certain objects attract me, prompting me to pick them up and take them back to my studio. I am compelled to help keep their stories going. Though for some reason, I rarely want to finish any of my artworks. I do not think I am the one who can decide when an object’s life is done. They will tell the viewer what the answer is, but definitely not me. Even at the time that my artworks are in storage or on exhibition, their stories keep developing as well.
Or maybe, somehow, human beings did not create anything at all. For example, we ‘discovered’ and channeled electricity and use it on a daily basis. But we did not make this power. It came from fossil fuels, wind energy, and so on. We only transform them into another form, giving them afterlife. Is transformation another word for afterlife? In my work, I am not only finding bits and pieces of objects that match with others but also finding the point of equilibrium among them. ‘The beauty of what you create comes if you honor the material for what it really is. Never use it in a subsidiary way so as to make the material wait for the next person to come along and honor its character’ says Louis I. Kahn.