The coloured wall in London’s East End was the result of a year-long ritual: one object drawn every day, hundreds of small things lifted from the urban fabric and translated into a hand-made archive. Shoes, bottles, gloves, tools, hats—multiplying, repeating, mutating—became a dense cloud of material memory arranged around the white gallery walls near Brick Lane. Standing before the drawings, I placed my own hat in front of its sketched counterpart, letting the real object meet its fictional twin within the mass of repeated forms. The installation celebrated accumulation, the poetry of the ordinary, and the simple fact that attention itself can generate a world.
