I often think about my body.
I like touching it; I like kissing my knee.
It is soft, vulnerable, and protective all at once. Yet I continue to question whether I fully own it. Is the body truly mine, or merely an outer layer — something visible, functional, expected to perform for appearance, reproduction, or desire?
I like touching it; I like kissing my knee.
It is soft, vulnerable, and protective all at once. Yet I continue to question whether I fully own it. Is the body truly mine, or merely an outer layer — something visible, functional, expected to perform for appearance, reproduction, or desire?
Women’s desire is frequently hidden, regulated, or left unspoken. Within many social and cultural structures, female pleasure exists in contradiction: constantly projected onto the body yet rarely allowed to speak in its own voice. My practice emerges from this tension between intimacy and silence, asking how desire can exist beyond performance, shame, or expectation.
Some things are difficult to explain.
They must simply be watched.
Observed carefully.
The clay is touched, caressed, clenched, squeezed, and fired.
Fabric is stretched, cut, punctured, and stuffed through a narrow opening.
Skin being touched, flowing through water.
An ovarian-uterus-shaped vibrator lies beside the bed: intimate, exposed, quietly present.
Drawing on Erin Manning’s understanding of relational movement and embodied process, I approach the work as a site of becoming rather than representation. The gestures of making become gestures of embodiment. The forms remain suspended between hardness and softness, intimacy and fragility, protection and exposure. They resist clear definition, existing instead as accumulations of bodily encounters.
Desire becomes powerful when it is allowed to exist without apology, without needing to become legible or acceptable.
Feel free to touch them, hold them in your hand.
Love it, cherish it, as they belong to...
Some things are difficult to explain.
They must simply be watched.
Observed carefully.
The clay is touched, caressed, clenched, squeezed, and fired.
Fabric is stretched, cut, punctured, and stuffed through a narrow opening.
Skin being touched, flowing through water.
An ovarian-uterus-shaped vibrator lies beside the bed: intimate, exposed, quietly present.
Drawing on Erin Manning’s understanding of relational movement and embodied process, I approach the work as a site of becoming rather than representation. The gestures of making become gestures of embodiment. The forms remain suspended between hardness and softness, intimacy and fragility, protection and exposure. They resist clear definition, existing instead as accumulations of bodily encounters.
Desire becomes powerful when it is allowed to exist without apology, without needing to become legible or acceptable.
Feel free to touch them, hold them in your hand.
Love it, cherish it, as they belong to...