Boom, Boom, Treasure Hunters, 2023 emerges as a hierarchy of ink-drawn forms—an assembly of abstracted fragments that hover between recognition and ambiguity. Arranged in vertical sequences on paper, these variegated shapes are not exact representations but filtered recollections—subconscious residues of a visual world saturated with oddities and overlooked matter. In re-encountering them, I sought to question how such peculiarities come to define the contours of our lived experience.
Each drawing is deliberately pared down—economical in line, yet expansive in suggestion. The vertical arrangement evokes a sense of taxonomy or ritual, as though the forms are being catalogued, not for scientific precision, but for their mnemonic charge. They echo the process of searching, of unearthing, of bringing order—or perhaps simply attention—to the stray visual debris that surrounds us.
This iteration of Boom, Boom, Treasure Hunters draws upon the detritus of previous eras, but the forms here are more ambivalent—less tethered to function or history, more suspended in the liminal space between memory and invention. They hover like emblems or talismans, shaped by recollection, cultural sediment, and imagined utility.
The title itself evokes both play and excavation. “Boom, Boom” is a rhythm—a heartbeat, an explosion, a child’s chant. “Treasure Hunters” suggests a quest, a desire to reclaim meaning from what has been lost, buried, or broken. Together, they describe a practice of intuitive archaeology: a searching not for gold or certainty, but for fragments that, when assembled, hint at a larger coherence.
In their totality, these works function as keepers of memory. Each drawing is a token recovered from the wreckage of form, a piece of something once whole. And while individually modest, together they present a collected vision—a constellation of shapes that, through accumulation, become a kind of map, a whole assembled from parts we didn’t know we were missing.









