“Something was held here long enough to leave a shape, but not long enough to be remembered.”

With Vessel, I was thinking about absence as a form of presence. The object isn’t important as an object — it’s important as evidence. It suggests containment, but what it contained is already gone. What remains is a distortion in the surface, a subtle difference in how light moves through the interior versus the exterior.

I was interested in that moment just after something leaves — when the space still carries a trace, but not a clear identity. The form feels delicate, almost too smooth, but the grain interrupts that perfection. It introduces doubt. It suggests this isn’t a pristine object, but something observed, maybe even recovered.

The work sits in a quiet tension: it offers a container, but refuses to tell you what was inside.