This work is based on the image of a group of people singing — a repeating pattern of open mouths is spray-painted onto a curtain of thin vertical threads. The fabric, called kisea, is made from many separate strands. Because of its structure, it doesn’t create a solid surface — the image stays fragile, shifting, and almost floating.
The faces become signs of sound, something that can’t be fully held. The fabric reacts to air, light, and movement — the image distorts, disappears, and comes back together. The material is not just a surface, it speaks for itself. What looks whole is actually made from many fragile, moving parts. It becomes a picture of something distant, unstable, almost unreachable — like an expectation that never fully lands, but still keeps resonating.