I have yet to remember

Installation, 2025, brass, bread, found object

This installation is an attempt at personal mythmaking, a desire-path leading me to unknown territory and an exploration of ambiguity and refusal of linear narratives to aid the creation of lasting memory-spaces. We can recalibrate to uncertain times in learning different modes of storytelling, bypassing self-enforcing systems of control and diversion.

The mobius strip - central to this piece - holds a plethora of metaphors. Its identity is shaped by the illusion of a two-sided surface but tracing it reveals one endless plane that is non-directional and constantly revolving.
Knowledge and memory were mostly recorded in a linguistic and thus chronological manner, following ideals of conformity, order and sequence.
Our present time reveals the collapse of this mode of sense-making. Living through post-linear-timelines, our perceptions have adapted to algorithmic regurgitations of facts and non-factual information. We are scrambling to orient ourselves, individually and culturally. Fact and fiction become indiscernible, demarcating singular narratives.
The mobius strip forgoes orientation, it is mathematically impossible to define arbitrary directions like up, down, inside or outside. Agency - it seems - can no longer be retained through forcing reality back into coherent, rational processes but rather this inherent lack of a sense of progression asks for different ways of understanding experience - generational, associative and desire-lead.
This brass mobius strip holds - etched into its surface - the insides of my grandmother's house. A place that is central to my personal narrative, an architecture that is individually sacred but at the same time irrevocably mutilated through the absence of my grandmother. 
The etching describes the route through the foyer, to the living room, to the kitchen and back to the foyer that generations of children would run on while their parents (running the same path some decades before them) would perform adulthood at the kitchen table through superimposed conversations, overlapping histories and constant myth-making over a spread of home-cooked food. Bread was always central to this ritual and finds its way into the installation in the form of a bread-hand, made from sourdough.

Facing the multiplicity of modern society, we become wayfarers in a sea lacking one singular north-star. Intuition and trust can become our remedies, if we follow them cautiously. In the words of Martin Shaw, we should start telling different stories to settle into uncertainty rather than scrambling for solutions. Vulnerability might seem like a weak point but is obligatory for true connection.