The production process involves applying body pressure to a soft material and letting it settle at its own pace. Air, temperature and temporality determine shape. On the brink of an existential crisis, the bodies feel the constraints of the environment and internalise it, tackling emotion & reason, impulse & control. There is no back story, just a state of frenzy. Movement is anchored inside a small frame where aggregation is ambiguous. As it merges with the frame, the body becomes a vessel for its own crisis, an a priori condition triggered by self-doubt.

In Backslit, two backbones attach to each other like two halves of a prosthetic corset curving against the spine. The claws clench as tension circulates through the lumps of salt. Will it ever let go? Deadlift is a futile device, a series of impaired limbs reaching for connection. The hair growing from the cracks turns into a comforting apparatus. Like the cushions, its past is ambiguous and resurges through pores, sweat & carrion. They will soon become integral parts of a bigger body, or just wrecks lingering in the sand.

Underlining an inherent feeling of losing balance, the sculptures border uncertainty and paralysis. Their lack of life hints at a broken morphological sequence – organic or otherwise. Delicately bound by straps and buckles, these bodies hang in a suspended state, longing for connection and warmth. The installation room becomes an uncanny capsule where materiality conjures meaning.