Window Of An Old Ruin

A Window Of An Old Ruin was something that caught my eye some time ago as a metaphorical and material idea.

The stone frame remains, while everything beyond it changes—light, weather, season, and movement. Walking past, the view is never the same, yet the structure through which it is seen does not change.

This establishes a condition of perception. The lens is constant, but what passes through it is changing. Over time, this becomes a study in repetition and difference: the same opening, the same body, but a continuously altered field of experience. Memory and presence overlap within this exchange, where what is seen is always slightly displaced from what was seen before.

Architecture becomes a record of time rather than a fixed object. The ruin holds exposure. The window functions as a threshold between permanence and impermanence, framing change without containing it.

This logic informs my approach to printmaking. The frames I work with and the surface operates as a similar window—stable and familiar in structure, but responsive in outcome. Through printmaking exploring perception and reversal, each layer shifts how the image is read, depending on light, density, and position.

Silk retains this instability. It holds pigment while allowing it to soften, blur, and migrate, producing gradual variation rather than fixed form. The work develops through material-led abstraction through layering and time, where each intervention adjusts what came before without fully replacing it.

This creates a process-led exploration of uncertainty, situated within perceptual abstraction. The image becomes less a fixed composition and more a condition of seeing—held between what remains and what changes.