Handmade flax and abaca paper stretches across the wall like a fragile skin, marked by ruptures of deep red fiber. Circular forms drift and overlap—suggesting cycles, orbits, or attempts to contain what cannot be held. The work lives in the tension between control and unraveling, where structure tries to organize chaos but never fully succeeds. Each embedded fragment feels like a moment caught mid-impact—memory, body, or emotion—refusing to settle.
It asks quietly: what do we keep circling, even as it pulls us apart?
Handmade flax and abaca paper stretches across the wall like a fragile skin, marked by ruptures of deep red fiber. Circular forms drift and overlap—suggesting cycles, orbits, or attempts to contain what cannot be held. The work lives in the tension between control and unraveling, where structure tries to organize chaos but never fully succeeds. Each embedded fragment feels like a moment caught mid-impact—memory, body, or emotion—refusing to settle.
It asks quietly: what do we keep circling, even as it pulls us apart?