I was eleven when my grandfather gave me my first camera. In the same year, I also received a sewing machine as a gift. My grandmother was a trained seamstress, and even as a child, I learned the art of making my own clothes from her.

As I grew older, I longed to return to a childlike state, to show colors openly, and to reveal what usually remains hidden. This is what I strive for with my objects—they are playful, uncanny, and at the same time, thought-provoking.

I work with materials I have found or that I have worn myself, and sometimes with objects that carry a deep family history. My great-grandmother had already used the buttons that I now weave into my art, and my grandmother transformed her coat into a dress, with a few steps in between. Eventually, these items became cleaning rags—but even then, they were carefully stitched and ironed. The buttons she gave me were kept in a box, sorted by color, and those that belonged together were connected with a ribbon.