Personality is multilayered, and one of its essential layers is the environment we inhabit. When this layer disappears, the familiar self dissolves — along with the sensations, rhythms, and light that once shaped it.

Entering a new space as an adult, the environment is no longer an extension of the body, but a surface to explore. At first, this experience is intense and disorienting. Yet with the loss of the old layer, a new one begins to form — alive, but not yet defined.

Through Finnish wool, I create this new layer. The material becomes a bridge between inner and outer worlds: white and creamy wool — my snow — foreign, yet soft, a surface to feel and inhabit. Fragments of viscose — a mouth, eyes — appear not as a return to the old self, but as new organs of perception.

Large white surfaces suggest the space of a new environment; a small warm body — a presence not yet merged with it. Between the “no longer” and the “not yet,” a new self emerges, learning to exist through material, sensation, and creation.