In my sculptural installations, I explore the tangible tension between physical presence and intrusion - who, or what, becomes the invader of the installation? Is it the towering clay body leaning over the viewer, or the viewer entering this space? These questions aim to echo into a broad, possibly shared struggle with the anxiety of the unknown - a sensation many of us carry in unpredictable times. I hope for my work to channel this collective unease, using clay as a medium to make the invisible tangible: the creeping discomfort of cohabitation, the deafening silence of absence, and the quiet terror of anticipation. I aim to build environments where these tensions are held but not resolved - providing them with a space where the experient becomes an active participant in navigating what is fragile, spectral, or beyond control, leaving the visitor to revisit their struggle on their own.

 

I shaped the body of my research in 2022 when I explored different methods of escapism and the material afterlives of discarded objects. Working with remnants - iron, fabric and clay - I sought out forgotten spaces and overlooked materials in the Netherlands, where I studied, and in my home country, Slovakia, approaching each found space and object with a kind of reverence. These fragments, marked by time and abandonment, became collaborators in the effort to revive objects doomed to forget. In this dialogue between decay and transformation, I began to notice parallels between human and insect-built environments, especially my personal muse, the self-contained yet strangely alien architectures of termites. My interest arose from the parasitic dynamics: the fragile, often uncomfortable relationships between species, sexes, habits, environments, beliefs, communities and spaces. Large, leaning ceramic bodies dominate my installations, in a sort of monuments, but mostly as ambiguous presences - both host and guest, protector and threat. These forms are imbued with sound and silence, holding resonant echoes of habitation, tension, and care within them.

 

As I began working with materials like rusted iron, raw clay, and other reclaimed objects, I noticed how each had its own imprint of quiet history on its body. They all carried similar signs of being used, discarded and overlooked. I approached these remnants with care, not only as materials but as companions in a process of transformation. Their imperfections, residues, smells, bends, and scratches spoke to something deeper: a tension between survival and decay, utility and loss. This material investigation led me to question how we cohabit with the natural world, mostly through the lens of parasitic relationships. Termite structures became a central metaphor in my work, embodying both organic intelligence and invasive human-built architecture. My 2.5-meter large coiled ceramic mounds echo these forms; they stand as uneasy bodies in space, confronting the viewer with their scale and eerie presence. They resonate not only visually but also aurally, embedded with collected soundscapes that vibrate through the clay body with repetition, discomfort, and fragility - a sonic reflection of how we attempt to make sense of chaos.

 

In the last months, my focus has shifted toward experimentation with iron oxide glazes. I carefully apply thin layers of glaze to avoid losing the rawness of the surface, so the glaze doesn't become a stylised mask but allows the clay body to show its building process, displaying the dents of my fingers, fingerprints and occasional hair or shoulder imprint from carrying the sculpture. I treat these glazes as the clay body's “second skin,” allowing them to protect rather than mask, to enhance rather than overwrite. Applied thinly, they permit the rawness of the bisque to emerge, much like the exposed earth of a termite mound. This play between surface and structure reflects the dualities I am drawn to in my work: strength and vulnerability, concealment and revelation. These surfaces invite touch as much as they invite interpretation. And in this tactile dialogue, I form my questions about resilience, transformation, and what it means to carry memory in material form.