I spend many parts of my childhood in ruins, prehistoric caves, dying cathedrals, archaeological sites and gravel pits. In the wake of destruction, I learned how time sculpts every stone carefully and precisely. A Greek column would shape shift to become an autonomous sculpture. A demonstration of Nature always having the upper hand. A ruin embodies paradoxes; a ruin is a remnant ‘off’ and a portal ‘in’. It’s a constant reminder of the passing of time. In melancholic fashion we reminisce about time before mass media
