Jasmine belongs to my metal series, but its origin is deeply personal. It was created at the request of someone who loved her, after Jasmine was no longer physically here.
The work began with a question that runs through the entire series: are we only what can be perceived in this particular world, in this particular form?
We tend to understand existence through matter. A body occupies a space; we see it, touch it, recognize it — and its presence becomes real to us. But if reality extends beyond what our senses are capable of perceiving, perhaps disappearance from the physical world does not necessarily mean disappearance from existence itself.
Jasmine approaches immortality from this possibility.
Not immortality as the endless preservation of a body, but as continuation — through memory, through presence, through the traces a person leaves in the lives they have touched. A life may have its own duration here, yet what it sets into motion can travel far beyond that duration.
Perhaps we move through different forms, different realities, even different versions of existence. Perhaps what appears to us as an ending from one point of view may be a passage from another.
We cannot know.
But we do know that a person can cease to be physically present and still remain strangely alive within another person: in a gesture they remember, in a sentence, in a particular light, in an emotion that returns without warning.
Something remains.
The reflective metal surface became important for this reason. Jasmine’s image remains while the world around her continuously changes across the surface. Light moves. The viewer enters the work. The surroundings appear and disappear.
Her image exists among all of them.
In this sense, Jasmine is not an attempt to recreate someone who is gone. It is an attempt to give form to what did not leave with her body — the resonance of a life, the memory of a presence, the invisible imprint that continues to exist in those who remain.
If there are realities beyond the one we currently perceive, perhaps there are also versions of us continuing somewhere beyond our field of vision.
And perhaps immortality does not mean remaining in one place forever.
Perhaps it means never existing in only one place to begin with.
The work began with a question that runs through the entire series: are we only what can be perceived in this particular world, in this particular form?
We tend to understand existence through matter. A body occupies a space; we see it, touch it, recognize it — and its presence becomes real to us. But if reality extends beyond what our senses are capable of perceiving, perhaps disappearance from the physical world does not necessarily mean disappearance from existence itself.
Jasmine approaches immortality from this possibility.
Not immortality as the endless preservation of a body, but as continuation — through memory, through presence, through the traces a person leaves in the lives they have touched. A life may have its own duration here, yet what it sets into motion can travel far beyond that duration.
Perhaps we move through different forms, different realities, even different versions of existence. Perhaps what appears to us as an ending from one point of view may be a passage from another.
We cannot know.
But we do know that a person can cease to be physically present and still remain strangely alive within another person: in a gesture they remember, in a sentence, in a particular light, in an emotion that returns without warning.
Something remains.
The reflective metal surface became important for this reason. Jasmine’s image remains while the world around her continuously changes across the surface. Light moves. The viewer enters the work. The surroundings appear and disappear.
Her image exists among all of them.
In this sense, Jasmine is not an attempt to recreate someone who is gone. It is an attempt to give form to what did not leave with her body — the resonance of a life, the memory of a presence, the invisible imprint that continues to exist in those who remain.
If there are realities beyond the one we currently perceive, perhaps there are also versions of us continuing somewhere beyond our field of vision.
And perhaps immortality does not mean remaining in one place forever.
Perhaps it means never existing in only one place to begin with.