40 Days is an installation part of my ongoing project Textures of Grief. It began with weaving - a slow, repetitive act that offered structure and steadiness in a time of loss. It became a way to sit with grief, to make space for it without needing to fix or explain it. The loom held what couldn’t yet be put into words. In time, some of those words began to surface.

This process resulted in a 9-metre-long woven work, a glass sculpture, a series of paintings, and a collection of thoughts. Each piece traces the shape of memory and absence, and the quiet effort of making sense of what feels uncertain.

Together, these works form a record of reflection. A glimpse into the process of mourning and repair. A way of staying close to what’s difficult, and finding, slowly, how to keep going.

Untitled

sound, 2:43

La fille aux cheveux de lin

Wooden carved hairbrush (21x32x35cm) and braided hair in spirals (40x40cm). From the day-to-day routine of brushing hair as a women, I investigated the idea of banal activities and their relationship with beauty standards and gendered representations.

Echoing Harmony Hammond's works (Floorpieces, 1973; Speaking braids, 2000-02), I explored notions of bond, erotism, sense of self and imaginary to challenge the binary divides and go beyond rigid boundaries of gendered representations.

Textures of grief

The two woven pieces represent an attempt to translate my relationship with grief and mourning through textile. By intuitively weaving white threads together on a loom, I investigated the meaning of warp and weft in relation to life and death. The broken pieces of glass chaotically ripped the weft. While the glass falls to the ground, some pieces remain entangled with the threads and become part of the fabric. The ripped woven pieces are peacefully hanging still. 

Archives

Poster made from scans of a collection of broken objects. Exploring the role of collecting and archiving I was surprised to notice that we are not always aware of what we collect and why we collect it. In my case, I always keep broken objects. I now realise that I have an entire collection of broken objects in my house. This poster is part of a larger project on archives and is setting the intention for ‘An Ode to Broken Things”  publication (March 2025). 

An Ode to Broken Things

 ‘An Ode to Broken Things’ is a publication on thoughts about a collection of broken things. 

Echoes from the sea

Project about the fear of forgetting a person's voice, face, laugh, smell. After loosing my father at the age of 8, I remember trying to not forget. After a while, these memories eventually fade away but I would constantly look for it. As part of this project, I edited an excerpt of a video, played in a loop, displaying a conversation I had with my father. The distorted voices are combined with the sound of the sea, in rememberance of our time spend sailing and the joy sparked by the illusion of hearing the waves when listening into a seashell as a child.

Gaze

Through movement, six performers, each embodying different characters and distinct personalities, explore intimate relationships and interactions. By merging sensory exploration with physical and emotional storytelling, Gaze invites the audience to reflect on their roles as both observers and participants, engaging with the themes of attraction, frustration, love, individualism, and the act of observation—the gaze—at its core. Nominated to “Revelatory Performance“ in the Andalusian Dance Awards (Premios PAD).

Bring Your Own Book x GRA-SI collective publication for Palestine

Collective publication for Palestine edited and designed by Malva Askerup, Dasha Leo, Stella Oort, Santiago Saizu and myself. 

Following the events of student encampments and protests in Amsterdam, we organised a publishing station at the 'BYOB' fair. We invited everyone to sit down and contribute to the publication. At the end of the day, we collected and scanned all the contributions, later organising a publication launch and fundraiser at the Tramhouse 11 (Amsterdam, NL).

Home

Home investigates how beloved childhood spaces, that we associate to a deceased person, are being visualised over time; highlighting the significant role imagination plays in shaping our perceptions of these places (cf. Gaston Bachelard, La poétique de l'espace). 

The cotton threads are woven onto the mental fence representing my childhood home in Brussels.