A red plastic cup, narrow and quite tall. All my life, it stood casually in the back left corner of the kitchen counter in my childhood home, holding toothbrushes. When the electric toothbrush arrived, it grew emptier but never moved. That same cup appears in photos of my mother in the kitchen, wearing an apron while cooking, my brother and I playing with oven mitts, pretending to make pancakes. A silly, simple, ugly cup that silently witnessed her life. And now, for 35 years, it has been there without her.

All those little things that were hers and mine when we were still together. It feels unbearable that these trivial objects can easily outlive a human life. Sometimes, I feel the desire to completely immerse myself in them, to dive into the atoms and teleport myself to my mother's past presence. But time ticks relentlessly, in one direction, forward, and never back.

The project 'Matter' consists of details of family photographs, close-ups of clothing and objects photographed against the backdrop of my skin.

(* Matter: Middle English: via Old French from Latin 'materia' (wood, substance), from 'mater' (mother) )