I was living in Berlin for two months in 2025. On my daily walks and cycles around the city, I started to notice intentionally placed boulders on pavements and in public parks – I guessed they were there to offer a place to rest briefly, for children to play on, and to break up the hard monotony of infrastructure.

They seemed sad to me, these rocks that had been displaced from their natural, wild environments, and been inserted into often desolate built environments. Surrounded by tar, paving, and shipped-in sand in children’s playgrounds, these rocks were lonely and yearned for their original homes. Though I couldn’t return them myself, the desire was strong to remove them from their gritty urban environments, and honour them by noticing and appreciating them. 

I would go on little missions to find these rocks, and, if happening upon some at the wrong time of day (in terms of light), I would return another day, often with a sketchbook and a coffee flask too. I took photos of these rocks, printed them out at a copy shop up the road from where I was staying, and started to cut them out of their backgrounds. The result is a pair of collaged books, separating rock from context.

Lost Rocks, 2025
Ready-made black album books, collaged laser print outs
Two books, 29.7 × 21 cm each