In search of identity

Over the past few years, I have often returned in my work to the same motif — a face or a mask composed of scraps of fabric and threads, as well as of memories, dreams, forgotten things, unspilled tears, the scents of childhood, conversations with friends, lived experience, and first and last love. As I examined the stains within these masks, I found myself thinking about the fragments that make up my identity, and what it looks like now — after losing my home and many other things connected to it. Is my past experience and my attachments the very fabric of my soul, or are they merely an optics (a mask?) through which I perceive the world? And what if this is simply an additional layer between my core and the universe?

96 rue Truffault, 75017, Paris.