“Dream Baby Dream” invites visitors into a dreamlike environment where the boundaries between vision, sound, and feeling begin to blur. The room is filled with smoke — thick, immersive, and disorienting — making it difficult to tell where the walls begin or end. Sound drifts through the haze: laughter, thunder, echoes that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

In the center, a single video glows on the floor. A man appears, alone, caught in a quiet storm of nervous energy. His gestures repeat, uncertain and fragile, as if he is trying to hold on to something slipping away. Around him, the sound deepens — not just background, but a living element that vibrates through the space.

Further ahead, a faint projection flickers across a wall — lightning that barely cuts through the smoke. Its brief flashes illuminate shifting forms, creating moments of recognition that vanish almost instantly. Visitors move through this uncertain terrain, guided only by light, sound, and instinct.

At the end of the space, a small window opens onto a black room. Behind the glass, a young woman sits quietly, her body bathed in soft light. The scene recalls the stillness and grace of a Renaissance painting. Her presence feels both intimate and distant — luminous, calm, and untouchable. She is a figure of beauty not in perfection, but in stillness: a muse suspended between dream and memory.

As the viewer steps away, her image fades into the haze, leaving only the echo of light and sound.

“Dream Baby Dream” is an exploration of perception, desire, and the act of looking. Through smoke, projection, and sound, the work constructs a space where seeing becomes feeling, and every image — like every dream — dissolves the moment you try to hold it.

You walk into a room filled with smoke.
The air is thick, and your sense of space begins to dissolve.
Sound bends around you - laughter, thunder, echoes of something familiar yet impossible.

A screen glows on the ground.
A man appears, restless. His tongue trembles, his presence uneasy, almost unraveling.
And then, she appears - the girl from the dream.
Dream, baby, dream.
A mantra, a whisper, a pulse that carries you deeper.

You wander further, uncertain if you are still walking or floating.
At the end of the room, a wall appears.
There’s a big window, and through it, a vision:
a figure resting in quiet radiance, body luminous like a Renaissance painting.
Her skin glimmers with tiny lights, as if dusted with stars.
She is both present and untouchable - a muse in a moment of stillness.

You take a step back. The image fades.
The dream dissolves.
You are left alone again - surrounded by smoke, sound, and memory.