This piece doesn’t try to clean itself up. Fibers stretch, break, and tangle across the surface like a life pulled too far in too many directions. Abaca holds the tension—fragile, but stubborn—while scattered fragments cling on like memories that won’t sit still.
Nothing is resolved here. Threads wander without pattern, looping, snagging, refusing to be contained. The structure feels temporary, like it could give way at any moment, yet it endures—messy, exposed, and fully honest.
Torn Life, Threads Everywhere lives in that space where things fall apart but don’t disappear. It’s about what remains when control is lost—when life frays, stretches, and keeps going anyway.
This piece doesn’t try to clean itself up. Fibers stretch, break, and tangle across the surface like a life pulled too far in too many directions. Abaca holds the tension—fragile, but stubborn—while scattered fragments cling on like memories that won’t sit still.
Nothing is resolved here. Threads wander without pattern, looping, snagging, refusing to be contained. The structure feels temporary, like it could give way at any moment, yet it endures—messy, exposed, and fully honest.
Torn Life, Threads Everywhere lives in that space where things fall apart but don’t disappear. It’s about what remains when control is lost—when life frays, stretches, and keeps going anyway.