Throughout art history, the sculpted female body has passed through various forms of representation. From the body as a fertility vessel, the sensuality of the Hellenistic and Roman period to the abstraction and societal critique of the modern and contemporary sculptors, the representation of the feminine has oscillated between sacred and profane, between modesty and sensuality, between flesh and symbolism.
Inspired by the sculptural representations of the body, in both sculpture and classical photography, I explore via self-portraiture, the body as form, as both ‘embodied’ and ‘disembodied’. The pieces become objects to the point of abstraction or tender landscapes of the body.
For me the body has always been a vessel of emotion, a container of feeling, memory and experience. Once the layers are peeled, what remains is the intimate and vulnerable reveal of the self.
2024 - ongoing
I carry with me a box of empty glass containers: jars, glasses of all kinds. Thin glass, thick glass. Small, large. In one piece, cracked or completely broken. I put the lid and the glasses are there safely preserved, until I find the right time to open it, to take out one. I sometimes add to it, if there is something interesting I feel needs keeping. Most of the times I just avoid it.
I carry with me a box of empty glasses. Some cracked. Some broken. Some still in one piece. All empty. All mine.
All that the glasses carry you can’t see, but it’s there: in the changing light; in the way they don’t shift position; in the walls you try to contain. But once and while, you get a crack in the glass. So you put them back. You put back the lid. Because you try again to control. Just the glasses changing makes it sterile, rational. Add the light and it brings up all the emotions. The glass is no longer an objective document, it’s a vessel for light. It’s not empty. It carries air and light. A presence.
I carry with me a box of empty glasses. I see it. I know it’s there. I shift its place. I open the lid. I put it back. Some glasses have broken. Some stay upside down. They are all mine, but they are not empty.
Some wombs are empty. Some have what others long for. Some have to wait a little longer than others. Some wait forever in vain. Some are full but wish that they were empty. Some are full and rejoice. Some just are and embrace all that is. Some give, some receive. Some want to give their whole, because that what makes them full.
We are all vessels. We all contain. Some give. Some receive. Some both, some neither. We are all vessels. We all contain. We can all overflow.
When you hold a flower, do you crush it or do you carry it with tenderness? When you touch others, do you approach them with openness or with tension? The way we have been touched, the manner in which we connected within our family, the expressions of affection passed down from our ancestors, inform how we relate both to others and to ourselves.
By fragmenting my family’s archive into small, natural gestures, I’m contemplating the quiet language of hands, the tenderness they convey, the intimacy and space we navigate in our connections and the bitter sweetness of having, holding and letting go.
The subconscious: light & shadow.
This series reflects on the tension between surface and depth, through pared down, minimalist photography, exploring the barriers we construct and the hidden layers that shape us.
The work asks what remains unseen beneath the images we project to the world: fragments of vulnerability, memory and emotion that coexist under the surface, like shadows and light.
Time moves indifferently, eroding, shifting, and reshaping everything beyond our control. While we impose meaning onto its flow, time itself remains detached. It leaves behind traces of decay and transformation.
This series reflects on erosion as both loss and renewal, exploring how the passing of time holds within it not only fragility and disappearance, but also the quiet possibility of hope.
Views from the world
Objects and installations
Symbols and reflections
