

Rising like a scarred monolith, the sculpture binds organic presence to wounded architecture: the warm, striated red mass reads as a body of memory, cinched together with stitch-like fasteners that refuse to let the rupture fully close. Two animal heads—cast in a cooler, oxidized green—emerge as totemic witnesses, their tilted gazes suspended between vigilance and surrender, as if nature itself is being grafted back onto what has been broken. The oval void at the core functions as both wound and portal, a breath of negative space that turns trauma into passage, and anchors the work’s quiet insistence on repair without erasure.







