Superposition

Superposition borrows its title from a concept in physics — the idea that multiple states can exist simultaneously until one is observed. I’ve come to see this as a metaphor for how we live with complexity: holding contradiction, beauty, grief, and resilience all at once.

This body of work began during a time of heightened isolation. The pieces — mostly abstract paintings and mixed-media assemblages — were created using what I had on hand: old jars of paint, discarded substrates, fragments of everyday materials like toilet paper, cardboard, and modelling paste. These were not just practical choices, but conceptual ones — gestures of reclamation, resourcefulness, and quiet resistance. Many works began as saturated fields of colour but have been interrupted by twisting white forms, textured like scars or threads. Dots and geometric patterns emerge like signals or codes, small attempts at communication. Some elements glimmer with gold leaf, others recede into the surface. Together, they hold tension and tenderness in equal measure.

Originally grounded in the experience of pandemic disconnection, the series has since taken on broader questions: What do we discard, and what do we preserve? Who do we center, and who do we allow to fade from view? What does it mean to exist in a shared space — spinning around one another, sometimes unseen, but still exerting force?

The ceramic works included here — vibrant, playful, and tactile — act as counterpoints, reminders that joy and absurdity persist. In physics, superposition collapses when a state is observed. But in art, we can hold multiple truths at once — connection and distance, loss and presence, ruin and repair.