Pariah unfolds as a quiet resistance, rooted in fragmentation, refusal, and the unease of never fully belonging. Absence here is not empty, but charged: a weight that lingers. Through intimate materials—hair, handwriting, water, layers of paper—the self emerges not as whole, but as fractured, shifting, unresolved.

Guided by psychoanalytic threads—repetition, erasure, the unconscious—this practice gives form to what slips language. The works hold tension between presence and disappearance, between visibility and concealment. Memory takes shape through form, not to resolve loss, but to stay with it.

To be a pariah is not a failure to belong, but a position from which to see what is cast aside—and to stay there, looking.