For me, the North, which I haven't seen too often in my life, but which is nevertheless firmly entrenched in my memory and my imagination, is vast and sometimes austere to miserliness in its form, its colors and its light. Rather than any North of the woods, in this series I am dealing with the "North of space": of the earth, sky and waters. It's a shame I haven't yet managed to get to my native place on the island of Spitsbergen at a polar winter night, a night like the one I was born into, so as to see for myself the black and white of the earth, the sky and the sea. Will it be the way I imagine it? That's why I hope the series is not yet complete.

Also, I've been long thrilled by tracing how the corporal world transforms itself into an apparently objectless one, exploring the life of "pointless" matter and the opportunities of recreating form from debris.