

A hybrid figure—part human, part bird—stands poised on a narrow plinth, its patinated skin and outstretched wings suggesting an instinct to rise even as it remains tethered to earth. Behind it, a semicircle of wooden panels reads like a portable architecture of memory: apertures and reliefs become thresholds, framing absence as much as presence and turning “home” into a shifting, guarded horizon. The dialogue between organic anatomy and crafted timber sets up a tension between freedom and confinement, as if flight must negotiate the doors of lived experience before it can become belief. In this suspended theatre of objects, the work feels like an allegory of transformation—identity assembling itself from fragments, scars, and the stubborn desire to cross from the interior to the open air.







