My practice of looking and abstractly reconstructing spaces began while living in Budapest. I spent a lot of time on trains and walking through the city, developing a habit of noticing the small details around me. I became focused on the overlooked—unique screws holding train windows in place, the precise pattern of holes in a vent, the quiet order of spring blossoms, rocks on a riverbank and birds flying overhead. I began drawing and documenting these details over and over.

Guy Debord’s Theory of the Dérive, put words to something I was already doing. My impulse to drift, to let the city pull me through space intuitively. I find myself often returning to the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon—the way something, once noticed, begins to appear everywhere. These objects felt familiar—the more attention I gave a small, seemingly insignificant detail, the more it seemed to multiply, until it felt like the most essential part of the structure around it.

My work is a way of documenting those moments and places. They’re quiet and detailed, often focusing on things others might pass by. They are a collection of observations and memories of familiar spaces.

Through my work I hope to convey this idea to slow down and notice more in our own environments. Paying attention to what’s around us can shift the way we relate to space, and even to each other. I’m interested in how these tiny details, if we really look at them, can tell us something about the structures we live in—and how they might change if we forget to look.