Between September 2023 and July 2025 I studied for an MFA. When I started this study I was 41 years old, with three jobs, a young child and a busy, somewhat messed up life. My creative rhythm, as well as almost any other set rhythm I might have had up to that time, was disrupted, and most works that came out during this period were not products of the pure joy of making (one day we'll talk about the process as well as the outcome of this study). However, there were those moments that somehow slipped through the fingers of institutional creativity and then several little projects appeared. However, because they came to life in fragmented, seemingly unrelated moments, I failed to see them as a whole and I also failed to see from the start their immediate connection with the topics, materials and methods that I chose for my 'institutional' projects.

Self-portrait was the first one of these side projects. It came to fruition during a ceramics workshop around Halloween. I decided to use acrylics and varnish (nail polish) instead of glazing it. The topic of identity, stereotypes and gender roles, that would later emerge in my graduation project, as well as masks as a medium, would only become concrete about a year later in my practice. 

Picnic was a child of found objects. The discarded, the every day, the unfitting. From the wooden board to the plastic threads, all objects in this assemblage are items that would have otherwise ended up in the trash, which was also meant to be a performative building element that would shape the sculptures in identitours.

Wall was the last one. The bold color palette is there, as well as the found objects. Underneath, on the found canvas, you can see parts of an underlying painting of a woman. But it's not a message of despair. This wall is a live wall, a lived wall, against the sterile white of decorum, and is in fact a happy expression of that woman. Looking back, those choices I made unconsciously were expressions of and foreshadowed the concept of virtuality, that I also embrace in identitours.

It seems that there is always a little bit of us in everything we do, one way or another.