I often make collages on the covers of old books—those forgotten volumes I find in open bookshelves, waiting to be seen again. My favorite shelf stands just around the corner from my mother’s house, and every visit becomes a little treasure hunt.
There’s something quietly moving about these abandoned books: their worn textures, their faded titles, the soft dents and creases that tell of hands long gone. Sometimes I incorporate the typography on the cover into my collage, or I find an old illustration that sparks an unexpected dialogue with the present moment.Because every book has both a front and a back, they lend themselves naturally to diptychs.
Like twin collages, held together by format and color—connected, yet independent. A silent story unfolding across two surfaces, rooted in the past, reshaped in the now.