In the past two years I have worked on installations in which the perception of architecture, its movement, color and texture merges with partially illegible texts embedded in, peeled off, or falling out of the walls or the floor. By inserting fragmented text into a physical space in which the viewer moves around in a relatively controlled way, the text--and language in general-- becomes the context for the perception of the space, deconstructing reality as physical and reconstructing it as a cognitive structure. At the same time language is camouflaged as physical space or form, not an innocent substitute for something solid and permanent. I am interested in the similarities in the way we relate to architecture and language--in the unconscious trust with which we allow both to direct our movements and our viewing positions, and, consequently, our experiences and interpretations.

I want the texts to become material, to have an architectural presence, to become the horizon that defines the limits of human space, and I want the building to seem to be melted and transformed into text. I try to choreograph the viewer's movements and gestures in order to give a rhythm to the installations, which is not represented but lived.

Although always referencing politics, I don't consider my work radical political art. I am not interested in promoting or undermining particular ideologies. I don’t want my work to be nostalgic or dramatic––I want my art to reveal complexities in the place where I am, we all are, in the present. I want the viewer to reach a conclusion on her own, with my work simply revealing several layers of conflicting meanings and feelings in a particular situation for her to consider. My work is about reality, not about politics, but I want reality to be perceived as the product of thousands of years of intellectual and physical production.