Don't Leave Me on Mute

2026, HD video, sound, loop (9:30 min)

Don’t Leave Me on Mute stages a dreamlike encounter between a woman and her double, as the boundaries between dreamer and dreamed gradually collapse. Awakened by the doorbell, the dreamer finds her double standing at the door, urgently warning her about something coming from outside and insisting that she wake up. The double then lies down in the bed, and the scene begins again: the sleeping woman becomes the dreamer, while the former dreamer appears at the door to wake and warn her. Repeatedly shifting between these positions, the sequence forms a closed loop in which it becomes impossible to determine who is dreaming whom, or where the original point of consciousness lies.

The work draws on a dream the artist experienced in 2016, in which she repeatedly encountered her own double and, with each iteration, lost certainty about which of the two was the “real” Rosanna. In Don’t Leave Me on Mute, this unstable doubling becomes a metaphor for a collective state of suspended consciousness. Against the backdrop of climate catastrophe, ongoing wars, and the rise of right-wing populism, the figure of the sleeping body evokes a society seemingly caught between paralysis and sleepwalking. The warning is already there, yet remains unheard.

Rather than positioning the dream as an escape from reality, the work locates the unconscious as a site of alarm and resistance. The double becomes a figure of an internal or collective voice trying to break through denial: wake up, something is happening outside. Yet every attempt to awaken only produces another iteration of the dream. The loop thus becomes both a psychological and political structure; a condition in which the desire to wake up and the inability to do so continuously reproduce one another.

Don't Leave Me on Mute

2026, HD video, sound, loop (9:30 min)

Don’t Leave Me on Mute stages a dreamlike encounter between a woman and her double, as the boundaries between dreamer and dreamed gradually collapse. Awakened by the doorbell, the dreamer finds her double standing at the door, urgently warning her about something coming from outside and insisting that she wake up. The double then lies down in the bed, and the scene begins again: the sleeping woman becomes the dreamer, while the former dreamer appears at the door to wake and warn her. Repeatedly shifting between these positions, the sequence forms a closed loop in which it becomes impossible to determine who is dreaming whom, or where the original point of consciousness lies.

The work draws on a dream the artist experienced in 2016, in which she repeatedly encountered her own double and, with each iteration, lost certainty about which of the two was the “real” Rosanna. In Don’t Leave Me on Mute, this unstable doubling becomes a metaphor for a collective state of suspended consciousness. Against the backdrop of climate catastrophe, ongoing wars, and the rise of right-wing populism, the figure of the sleeping body evokes a society seemingly caught between paralysis and sleepwalking. The warning is already there, yet remains unheard.

Rather than positioning the dream as an escape from reality, the work locates the unconscious as a site of alarm and resistance. The double becomes a figure of an internal or collective voice trying to break through denial: wake up, something is happening outside. Yet every attempt to awaken only produces another iteration of the dream. The loop thus becomes both a psychological and political structure; a condition in which the desire to wake up and the inability to do so continuously reproduce one another.