About

Is texture the memory left behind by stones, or the trace of water pausing for a moment? Is it a witness to production, to the historical memory of both banks of the river, or a phantom image that appears and fades by turns?

During the residency, I walked again and again along both sides of the river embankment. The landscape seemed divided into separate passages: on one side, a riverbed left to grow freely; on the other, a landscape that had been tidied and arranged. On the river side, gravel lay scattered; the outlines of distant piles and the fine textures at my feet unfolded at once. My gaze wandered among them, and my mind gradually lost itself in the paths the textures traced. On the other side, flooded fields spread out quietly, the surface of the water lying over the land like a thin film, lending the familiar space a touch of strangeness, as if it were slowly passing from the wild to the tamed.

As I walked along the bank, the sound of gravel trucks occasionally swept past in the distance. Then a subtler rhythm emerged and grew clearer: gravel pouring down a conveyor belt. I stopped and looked at the small mounds of crushed stone before me, one after another, their textures overlapping, as if time had been briefly preserved in material form.

As my senses slowly sank into these fragments, the image of “covering” came to mind as a way to name these back-and-forth feelings and thoughts, and action became the way to let them surface. What I want to capture is not a definite shape, but a presence between the concrete and the abstract: memories carried by both stone and flowing water. Through drawing and spatial construction, I keep testing the boundaries, holding myself between clarity and blur, and I keep walking.