Work In Progress Show RCA, London.
2 posters. Giclée print and letterpress embossing.

There is always an inflexion point; a moment where a decision is taken, an option chosen… And something happens. But it could have been something else. So, what becomes of all the other options? What happens with the actions that will never take place or the words that will never be said?

Printed text:

«We hadn’t seen each other for a few years. We used to be good friends, but distance inevitably left its trace, as it always does.

At first, the silence was filling the room, as if it could materialise and touch with its cold hands the walls surrounding us. Everything I could feel was silence. And I’m sure the silence could feel us.

Our movements seemed silly all of a sudden. I tried to grab the coffee someone had prepared, but my hands were shaking, and it spilled all over the little plate holding the cup. I was embarrassed, and I put down the coffee hoping to calm down.

She looked at me and noticed, but didn’t say a word. Her eyes started pointing the floor, and I could almost see the back of her head. Her hair was short now, and was a different colour. All the familiar little details were slowly disappearing while I was looking at her; all the memories fading, losing the value they once had.

My mouth was full of words that had been waiting there to be released, but I didn’t feel like letting them out. Surprisingly, the words were also starting to disappear, and I could feel them leaving my mind, along with the rancour.

She was waiting; I was bored. She was expecting something to happen, I didn’t want anything else to happen.

I wiped the coffee from my fingertips. I left.»