I was in Vienna, in residency with my wife at the MuseumsQuartier, physically distant from the site of the massacre, yet not outside its reach. News of the attack moved through space like a dense, viscous and delayed wave. Perception altered. Time seemed to warp.
In response, I turned to a simple set of tools: a notebook and a Japanese calligraphy pen I had brought back from Kyoto. Over the following two weeks of the residency, I filled notebook after notebook.
Through repetition, line after line, frame after frame, the drawings began to function as sequences. What initially emerged as gesture gradually developed into a form of temporal notation. I started to understand the notebooks as latent animations, an attempt to register duration and abstract bewilderment simultaneously.
The resulting work occupies a suspended field:
between event and perception,
between rupture and reconstruction,
between witnessing and image-making.
My practice often engages with moments in which reality begins to shift, when time appears to bend under the weight of collective events. In this context, drawing operates both as a recording device and as a structure through which experience can be processed, extended, and reconfigured.