Always Smile (Dreams in Plastic)

Suspended in a field of nocturnal black, the two translucent, sack-like forms read as both cocoons and cargo—vessels that cradle fragile interior worlds while hinting at their confinement. Within their pale skins, a child’s resting face and scattered domestic fragments glow like rescued memories, while the smaller, doll-like figure and clockwork marks introduce the chill of measurement, storage, and control. The composition’s stark contrast—milky whites against a velvety void—turns space itself into an abyss, suggesting how innocence can be archived, transported, or bargained away under the cover of darkness. What lingers is a quiet unease: tenderness persists, yet it is sealed, curated, and made precariously portable.