Waiting until it gets lighter again
When you sit down in the shop on a late summer morning and the sun shines through the chestnut tree into the shop window, it all begins with a small point of light in the upper right corner of the window frame. Gradually, more points of light appear, forming groups that sway with the branches of the tree in the wind or suddenly light up and slowly drift diagonally down the window panes until they finally reach the floor. This projection is preserved on film.
Six months later, towards the end of winter, a row of jars stands on the shelves of the shop, their mostly organic contents undergoing various transformation processes. Roots, cacti, fruits, and nuts ferment, crystallize, and ripen in the interval between two sales events. These are jars or recipes from friends of the artist, who prepared them for the exhibition. Enriched with their own references and associations, a cycle of transformations and continuing patterns emerges. Summer is preserved, in a vacuum. When a child enters a shop, it appears as a cabinet of curiosities, a collection of objects. The logic of buying disappears. The light of summer remains in the shop window.
