Memory is often thought of as a record of the past, but in reality it is far less stable than that. It shifts, fragments and reshapes itself over time. Some moments remain vividly present, while others fade, distort or disappear altogether.

In Remnants, dried flowers become stand-ins for memory itself: preserved yet altered, fragile yet enduring. Suspended in darkness, partially obscured and caught in various states of collapse, they exist between presence and absence, recognition and forgetting.

The series grew from a long-standing interest in what remains after transformation and loss. While much of my earlier work explored these themes through the human figure and landscape, Remnants turns to still life as a way of examining memory more directly. The dried flowers are not intended as botanical subjects but as traces, fragments and echoes — forms that persist, even as they slowly change.

Created in response to reflections on memory, grief and the unreliable nature of recollection, the work considers how we carry the past within us. Not as a fixed archive, but as something living, shifting and continually rewritten.