The material allows no room for error. The thread snaps. The beads are lost. A form, barely taking shape, can collapse with a single wrong movement — and it is within this fragility that the meaning of the practice emerges. What is gathered here is never gathered once and for all. A form holds because it is continually being held. Let go, and it crumbles, like everything we call stable — a home, memory, the body.
The gesture of stringing refers to women’s traditions of handwork — embroidery, mending, repair, adornment — to a craft that for centuries has served not only to preserve and restore, but also to give things value, transforming care into form. The monotony of the movement becomes a way of gathering oneself piece by piece, turning inner chaos into structure. This gesture runs through the entire exhibition — across different materials, at different speeds, but with the same intention: to hold in space what is always threatening to fall apart.
The body, too, becomes such a safe space, where fragile forms of organs are gathered like living jewels. Transformation takes place between disintegration and assembly, between the irreversibility of change and the constant desire to find form again.