Rosebound. The birds sing and there is no more.

This work emerged from my father's death. I gilded 16,726 rose thorns — one for each day we were alive together — not as monument to loss, but as a celebration of presence. The act of gilding each thorn became a ritual, a slow unfolding, a way of marking time through the body and the hand.

Cloth woven with thorns, large charcoal drawings, restored objects, jars of accumulated labour — together these elements create an immersive environment that is both deeply personal and open to anyone who has ever counted their days with someone.