One autumn, while maintaining my garden, I couldn’t simply discard the remnants of the pruning. That beauty, amputated by the practical need for a livable environment, didn’t deserve to disappear so abruptly. I arranged the clippings in bowls, and in that gesture, I found myself inhabiting the present. The spontaneity of the act led me, without seeking it, to distance myself from the forms learned during my time at ikebana school. Something in that process awakened in me a feeling akin to what I experience when I paint. I began to perceive the transient nature of what is created, where beauty and its fragility reveal themselves in their brief coexistence with time. I enjoyed that fleetingness as one enjoys a shared secret. I took some photos, simply, without the intention of creating a work. It was a friend who pointed out that this record could continue the experience. From there, I also began to pay attention to the space, the backgrounds, the supports. From that observation, the series that followed emerged: "Intermezzo."