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The idea of The Geometry of Memory began to take shape only recently, after I returned to felt-making in Hamburg following a three-year pause. That break—caused by overwhelming work commitments—left me creatively quiet for a time. But when I finally resumed, something had shifted. The new felt collages emerging from my hands carried a different presence—more nuanced, more refined, like a wine that matures quietly with age.

Each piece now seems to hold its own character, as if time and stillness have allowed deeper layers to surface. The forms are quieter, more deliberate; they echo memories not just as moments, but as textures, silences, and patterns of absence. Perhaps, in a few years, I will look back and see these current works as early steps—juvenile even—but for now, they mark a return to myself and to a rhythm of making that feels rooted and honest.

Through this evolving series, I explore how memory lives not just in narrative, but in geometry, in material, and in gesture. It is a slow mapping of emotion and time—one that reveals itself in wool, in form, and in the quiet process of coming back.