"This house has good bones." This phrase is often used to describe the integrity of a structure. Together, these "bones"—along with other materials—form an identifiable place, marked by an address. Yet, when deconstructed, they lose their identity, much like a human skeleton. A skeleton remains recognizable, but the identity of the person who once was is lost.

I am fascinated by the ashen human forms left behind in Herculaneum and Pompeii—figures frozen in time, absent of individual identity, yet undeniably human. These remnants serve as stark reminders of the tragedy of AD 79, a moment preserved in material form.

For some time, I have been drawn to structures facing demolition or transformation, casualties of economic shifts rippling through towns and cities. Rather than condemning or celebrating this change, my work seeks to document and resurrect the bones of these places—preserving traces of their existence through artistic means in both 2D and 3D form.

Much like Duchamp’s Readymades, these "Readyunmades" embrace and retain the marks of their past. The carpenter’s measured graphite lines, the tortured nails, and the raw edges of cut wood—each bears witness to both creation and destruction. I select each element not only for its material presence but for the history it carries. My process aims to restore a sense of balance, acknowledging the inherent identity of these materials even as their original context fades.

Through this work, I seek to honor what remains, capturing a fleeting moment in the life of a structure—before it disappears entirely.