DIE IMPROVISATION
Storytelling trough space
Die Improvisation is an intimate, narrative practice that explores the possibility of telling stories through space itself. In these miniature environments, architecture, voids, textures, and scale become expressive tools—a language that allows emotions and ideas to manifest without relying on words. What began as minimal interventions soon evolved into small stage-like worlds where stories could unfold: places shaped through fragile materials yet charged with symbolic weight. Each space became a vessel for internal landscapes, imagined narratives, and emotional movements, turning the act of building into a way of inhabiting and giving form to my own experiences.
This practice took on strength during my time in Berlin, at a moment marked by constant moves and the search for a place of my own. Changing homes again and again awakened a deeper need to examine my desires for safety, grounding, and stability—to find a roof and a floor that felt solid, even if only metaphorically. With no fixed studio and no possibility of working with large materials, I began creating from that state of transience and fragility. I collected small fragments of paper from everywhere: chocolate wrappers, sheet music found in flea markets, remnants of notebooks...
Paper became my primary material at the beginning. Through simple gestures—folding, bending, cutting, crumpling—I began shaping volumes that gradually transformed into inhabitable miniature spaces. At first minimalistic, they grew in depth and complexity as I discovered that each construction could host a story. Within them, I imagined characters, movements, atmospheres and inner narratives, allowing these improvised structures to become both a sanctuary and a reflection of my ongoing processes of adaptation and belonging.
This practice took on strength during my time in Berlin, at a moment marked by constant moves and the search for a place of my own. Changing homes again and again awakened a deeper need to examine my desires for safety, grounding, and stability—to find a roof and a floor that felt solid, even if only metaphorically. With no fixed studio and no possibility of working with large materials, I began creating from that state of transience and fragility. I collected small fragments of paper from everywhere: chocolate wrappers, sheet music found in flea markets, remnants of notebooks...
Paper became my primary material at the beginning. Through simple gestures—folding, bending, cutting, crumpling—I began shaping volumes that gradually transformed into inhabitable miniature spaces. At first minimalistic, they grew in depth and complexity as I discovered that each construction could host a story. Within them, I imagined characters, movements, atmospheres and inner narratives, allowing these improvised structures to become both a sanctuary and a reflection of my ongoing processes of adaptation and belonging.
