Squashed Figs traces the slow rhythms of Samos, where sun-bleached landscapes and chance encounters are shaped by the island’s bright Mediterranean light. The smell of squashed figs fills the air as elderly women gossip in the streets, while open houses speak to a sense of trust and community that allows the unfamiliar to feel strangely like home. Influenced by faded postcards from the 1980s, the work draws on their sun-worn depictions, exploring memory and familiarity.