In the standardised grey apartment blocks of Communist Romania, potted plants were quiet acts of resistance that brought warmth, colour, and life to otherwise impersonal spaces. They were small gestures of individuality - a way to assert presence and humanity. This work engages with that history through a photograph taken during the Communist era, discovered in an antique shop: three men posing with a potted plant, as if it were a beloved companion. Using the chlorophyll printing process, the photograph is transferred directly onto living leaves that have been collected from the very apartment buildings where such plants had once stood. The choice of material creates a conversation between subject and medium: a plant reproducing its own image through human memory. Some of the prints remain incomplete or fade over time, echoing the way memory itself can erode. The work meditates on the ways both lives and histories persist only in delicate, fragmentary traces.

Hunger Circuses, named for their appearance, were large buildings constructed in Communist Romania as centres intended to feed the population. By the time of Ceaușescu’s execution in 1989, only two had been completed, while many others remained unfinished - silent reminders of a broken promise. In the years that followed, the buildings were either repurposed or demolished. Muscle Memory presents a contemporary photograph of one of these buildings, the surviving Hunger Circus in Pantelimon, now a public market. The image is printed across thin slices of meat, chosen for their bodily associations. The number of slices corresponds to the monthly ration allocated to a family of three under the regime, recalling the severe scarcity of food at the time. Here, the building’s monumental presence and the fragility of the medium combine, evoking both the weight of history and the corporeal memory of hunger.

"Attention! the plaster is falling!" is a regular warning on the streets of Bucharest. Pedestrians instinctively move to the side of the sidewalk or cross the street, getting out of the way of the falling facades above. Plaster, bricks, and sometimes entire balconies break off and crash to the ground. These falls have caused accidents, injuries, and deaths over the years. Attention! The Sky Is Falling! depicts fragments that have dropped to the ground. Each a small shard of memory of the city, a piece of its body that has come undone. More than signs of abandonment, they are also objects that have a peculiar beauty of their own, like meteorites or bits of the moon that have fallen onto the sidewalk. In this regard, the city is a heavenly body, slowly reshaped by its own forces of attraction, eternally poised between collapsing and holding itself together.

On 16 December 1989, protests against Nicolae Ceaușescu broke out in Timișoara, Romania. What began as a demonstration quickly turned in to a mass uprising. Security forces opened fire on the crowds, killing dozens. In the early hours of 19 December, around forty bodies were secretly loaded into a refrigerated lorry and taken to Bucharest. That night, they were cremated in secrecy, and their ashes scattered into a canal near Popești-Leordeni. When The River Ends, So Do We responds to this act of erasure. The work consists of five glass plates, each created with water drawn from the Dâmbovița River, which is the same river that carried the victims’ ashes. Each plate is backed with gold, recalling Orthodox iconography once banned under Communism. Where the regime sought to erase the dead, the work instead reframes them as sacred, not lost.

Election Interference is a documentation of defaced campaign posters from the current Romanian presidential elections (2025). The candidates pictured are those now vying for power in the wake of Călin Georgescu’s disqualification over confirmed Russian interference. The vandalised faces are a visceral response - part satire, part protest.

Faint Transmission draws on the beliefs of the Aetherius Society, a UFO religion founded in 1955 by George King, who claimed to receive telepathic messages from extraterrestrials. The group continues to perform rituals on Brown Willy, a Cornish hill they regard as a point of contact. Reimagining that landscape as a signal, the series employs a visual language shaped by early space imaging. The project transforms the ordinary into the unfamiliar, rendering Brown Willy as remote and indistinct, like transmissions from another place that suggest the tenuous nature of distant contact.

Transit employs long exposure photography to transform the concept of waiting from passive to dynamic. It highlights the contrast present in transport, capturing moments that are both suspended in anticipation and filled with the continuous movement of travel.