the ground zero happened in 2013: i found myself living under the same roof as a family of honeybees.  they swarmed indoors and settled for months, making my space theirs. was it a negotiation or an entanglement across realms? answers are still wandering.  we’re not so separate, i realised though.   this encounter definitely marked my career shift from investigative journalism into visual arts.  spontaneous cohabitations over seasons led me to study their languages across  art, architecture and ethnographic methodologies. i consider my research and my practice as a journey exploring the sense of awe and displacement, of being a participant, yet not a part, within communities mutually othered (urphänomen, 2016–18; tamed h/abit series, 2019–ongoing).

then came the moths. i owe much to their controversial labour, often labelled pestilent yet now recognised as vital for reducing forms of pollution at all stages of their lifecycle.  we met a decade ago by mistake: i was an art student exhibiting in a museum for the first time, perhaps with more excitement than awareness. after one month, the museum temporarily closed due moth infestation, as they had been literally dwelling in and feeding – into – my artwork about life in hives.   the subsequent spread of life and decay across the pinacotheca’s walls, witnessed uniquely by the audiences, marked the beginning of a multifaceted collaboration (in buono stato, opera pr1ma, 2016).

doing, undoing and mending has since become my methodology. for me it’s a way of listening to, processing, and conveying to audiences certain choreographies of control embedded in our relationality (esercizio di decenza, 2022; in secret dens, 2024). the creative process starts from the local collection of organic materials from apiculture waste, and demands intensive labour distributed across different stages and interspecies manipulations that culminates into chromaticity as the ultimate address. 

techniques span across mosaic, fresco, carving, sculpting, feral practices, renaissance oil painting. the process remains open until someone takes care of it, whether they are pollinators or human beings.  patterned environments – continuously reshaped by every organism that comes after, evolving in turn – embody, in my vision, the bare sense of existence (the conference without any/body, 2024–ongoing).