DECEMBER 16th 2024
Copyright Pe Ferreira
Today felt surreal. Walking into the gallery at Mendes Wood DM, seeing the culmination of months of work displayed as Jewel, my latest exhibition, I felt a strange mix of pride, vulnerability, and exhilaration. The space radiates an energy that feels both intimate and monumental—it’s humbling to witness how the works have taken on a life of their own here.
The new paintings hang with quiet confidence, their textured layers inviting the eye to travel through their intricate worlds. Across the room, the stamp artworks—imprints of carved foam cushions—balance this energy with their tactile immediacy, each mark infused with the rhythm of repetition. These pieces feel almost like artifacts, holding something raw, like imprints of memory. I spent so many hours carving those cushions, testing their designs, and layering the stamps to create something that feels spontaneous, but precise. Seeing them on the walls, breathing in their autonomy, is still sinking in.
I’ve been rereading parts of the press release, drawn to how it articulates what I struggled to put into words throughout the process. One line stayed with me all day:
“In Jewel, the artist carves into the intimate softness of domestic materials, reshaping them into tools for dialogue. The foam stamps, with their playful geometry and their echoes of imperfection, perform a delicate act of translation—transforming the personal into something legible yet ambiguous, familiar yet otherworldly.”
This idea of “reshaping” really resonates. When I started carving those foam cushions, I didn’t know exactly where I was going, but I trusted the process to reveal its own logic. That line about “echoes of imperfection” feels especially important. The paintings and stamp works aren’t perfect—they’re deliberately layered with traces of mistakes and reworkings, moments where I let the material push back.
Another excerpt touches on something I hadn’t fully realized until I saw the show installed:
“The exhibition unfolds like a fragmented narrative, where each work serves as a jewel—separate, yet connected to a larger constellation. Together, the paintings and stamp pieces suggest a language that resists resolution, inviting viewers to dwell in the gaps between form and meaning.”
I love that image: a constellation of jewels, each one glinting with its own story. The gaps between meaning feel so essential to my practice, to letting the work stay alive and open-ended.
The gallery has done such a beautiful job curating the space. The light catches the textures of the foam-stamp patterns and the layered brushwork in the paintings, bringing out details I wasn’t even fully aware of while making them. It’s a reminder of how collaboration—between artist, gallery, audience—shapes the life of an artwork.
It’s hard to believe there are only two weeks left for the show. I’m so grateful for how this exhibition has come together, for how Jewel is resonating with others. Tonight, I’m holding on to that constellation of moments, imperfect and shimmering.
If you stop by before the end of December, let me know what you think. I’d love to hear how Jewel speaks to you.
(Exhibition: November 20 - December 21st, 2024, Mendes Wood DM, New York)
October 7th 2024
Copyright D.R.
This past summer, my exhibition at the Musée des Arts Précieux Paul-Dupuy in Toulouse for Le Nouveau Printemps felt like stepping into a different dimension. Curated by the brilliant minds of Stéphanie Moisdon and filmmaker Alain Guiraudie, the show focused on new forms of resistance and featured artists who played with notions of time, space, and materiality—an intriguing combination of humor, fantasy, and decay. I felt a profound connection to their vision of art as an interplay between reality, fantasy, and legend, often blurred in mysterious ways.
For my part in the exhibition, I decided to work with large-scale stamps, creating pieces that combined traditional craft with a sense of fluid transformation. The physicality of stamping felt right—each imprint solid, yet part of a larger ephemeral process. These forms, I hope, conveyed a rhythmic energy, reflective of the show’s themes of uncertainty and rebellion. It was gratifying to see how my work interacted with the sculptures of artists like Mathis Altmann and Lucie Stahl. Their gritty, hybrid landscapes echoed the rawness I aimed to express with each bold stamp on paper.
The museum itself, nestled in the historical Carmes/Saint-Étienne quarter, added an extra layer of intimacy. As part of this radical yet delicate community of creators, we formed a fleeting, almost anarchic movement, where different methods of storytelling and craft coexisted. I loved how Stéphanie and Alain’s curatorial touch brought this to life through a kind of visual “score,” where each piece felt like a note in an evolving symphony. Looking back, it was one of the most gratifying experiences of my artistic journey.
(Exhibition: May 30 - June 30, 2024, Musée Paul-Dupuy, Toulouse)
October 6th 2024
Dear diary,
Today has been a strange day. I woke up with this odd sense of nostalgia, like something significant was bubbling up from my subconscious. It didn’t take long to realize what it was—Brazil. That exhibition I did there, years ago now, but so vivid in my memory. I couldn’t shake the images of those floating sculptures, the mobiles I had hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently as if breathing in unison with the gallery space. Those works, they were about gas—this invisible force we rely on, that powers so much of modern life, yet is also so elusive, uncontrollable. Gas, in a way, became a metaphor for everything that feels intangible but all-encompassing, both fragile and powerful.
And then there was ballet. The movement of dancers, their bodies twisting and stretching, finding grace in the air. I remember how I wanted my pieces to feel like that—how the mobiles had to move with an elegance that mimicked ballet, as if they were performing for the viewer. Those moments when the shapes would shift slightly in the light, casting shadows that danced along the walls. The balance between the rigid structures of the sculptures and the freedom of their motion always felt like a conversation between the delicate control of a dancer and the unpredictable nature of gas.
Today, it almost feels like I’m back there—standing in the middle of that room, watching the sculptures and paintings breathe, feeling the weight of the air around me. It’s strange, how memory works, how it can take you so deep into a moment that it feels more real than the present. I wonder if people who saw that exhibition felt the same way I did. Did they understand the connection between the invisible gas and the graceful ballet? Or did they simply enjoy the dance of the objects?
In any case, it’s one of those days where the past feels closer than usual.
October 4th 2024
Today felt surreal, grappling with the delicate interplay between personal and professional. Working on my monograph with Stéphanie Moisdon is a collaboration marked by layers of history. She’s brilliant—a curator with a sharp eye—but she’s also the ex-partner of my husband. This complex dynamic hovers over our every discussion.
History lingers
In the space between our words,
Art bridges the gap.
Stéphanie is renowned for her groundbreaking curatorial work, and it’s an honor to have her shaping this book. Her influence in the contemporary art world, from her leadership at the Lyon Biennale to her essays on relational aesthetics, is unmistakable. Yet, working with her also means confronting the personal past that we both share in different ways.
Silent shadows move
She critiques my art, knowing
What once was, still is.
There’s an unspoken rhythm to our exchanges—a blend of respect, perhaps, tinged with unresolved emotions. It’s as if we’re all part of a reconstructed family now. The art we’re creating, though, is more than just a collaboration; it’s a testament to how intricate and intertwined our lives have become. Her gaze, both professional and personal, has a weight that’s hard to describe.
Art and life entwine
Tension fuels the process here,
Fragile, yet we stand.
I feel like this project has become more than just a monograph. It’s an exercise in understanding the delicate dance we all perform, consciously or not. Stéphanie’s role in my life is complex, but through this work, we’re finding a way to coexist. Each conversation feels like a step in a ballet—graceful, calculated, and yet filled with unspoken undertones.
Through art we rebuild
What once seemed fractured, distant—
Now, a strange duet.
As we continue, I’m struck by the balance we’re managing. It’s as though the past and present coexist in a delicate harmony. I wonder if this tension will always be there, or if, like art, it will transform into something new altogether.