Is it a lamp — or a playground for spiders? A bed — or a machine for learning how to dream?
These are hybrid objects: furniture that absorbs foreign elements, sculptures that invite interaction, alien presences attempting to camouflage themselves within the domestic landscape. They conceal themselves behind mimetic forms of the everyday — a kind of animist exercise that destabilizes the banalities of our daily lives, while exposing the obsolescence of certain inherited “truths” we cling to under the guise of tradition or culture.

Functioning as narrative mediums of parallel worlds and ancestral memory, these objects hover in a space of dreamlike atemporality, where they acquire an epiphanic, poetic charge — markers of other logics, other ways of sensing and knowing.