A light installation “Bedwieg” of pearls and oyster shells, suspended in the dark — delicate forms catching fragments of light, like dreams caught in memory.

The pearl begins with disturbance: a grain, a wound, something the body cannot accept. Slowly, it is covered, softened, made luminous. In the same way, dreams work over what cannot be faced directly, shaping discomfort into something strange and beautiful.

The marbles, standing in for pearls, evoke childhood and nostalgia.

The oyster shell suggests safety — a closed space, a boundary. In sleep, we feel held, enclosed. Yet we are never more fragile than when dreaming: our bodies still, our minds drifting through the unknown. The shell is illusion, a gesture toward protection that cannot truly hold.

This work lingers in that space between tenderness and exposure — where dreams are both shield and signal, where beauty is born of what once unsettled.

Nearby stands a headless, chained dog-like figure “Mary” — a guardian without senses. It watches over this dream-space, yet cannot see, smell, or protect. In sleep we imagine our bodies capable — ready to run, defend, escape — yet we are at our most vulnerable.

This sculpture embodies that false sense of safety: a protector bound to the dream world, loyal but powerless.