The brick is made of foam before I pick it up.

The large-scale ink works mark the beginning of a formal enquiry that has persisted through everything since. Objects rendered at body scale in diluted inks — a brick, a backpack, a pair of trousers, a reclining figure — until the boundary between mark and surface, between skin and object, begins to dissolve. The works are less concerned with depicting things than with what things become when looked at long enough: biological, ontological, uncertain.