

A dark, cratered form—part trunk, part cavern—becomes a suspended world, its heavy graphite skin absorbing the surrounding silence while a single circular opening glows with an improbable colony of yellow faces. Two birds flank this aperture like attendants at a shrine, their pale bodies poised between feeding and guarding, suggesting care that is never free of scrutiny. The stark contrast between the brooding, porous mass and the bright, crowded “nest” reads as a meditation on collective emotion: joy manufactured, shared, and contained within a wound-like space that both shelters and exposes. In this tension, the work turns whimsy into unease, asking whether community is comfort—or a chorus trapped in the mouth of darkness.







