​
One of art’s most powerful qualities is its ability to be beautiful and unsettling at once. My work lives within that contrast—between tenderness and distortion, the alluring and the grotesque. It is this tension, this push and pull, that most captivates me.
I see my creative process as a journey through a hallucinatory world governed by its own logic, dimension, and time. It is quiet, yet loud—soft in appearance, yet psychologically intense. The objects I create may seem delicate, even comforting, but they often carry an eerie undercurrent. I find myself unable to resist transforming them into something strange, even monstrous—yet still, to me, they are profoundly beautiful.
Old, petrified garments are reborn as gothic relics. The dresses I use often conceal “body parts,” functioning as a form of sublimation. They clothe hybrid beings—mutated, deformed, and otherworldly. These creatures may be withering internally, but they remain outwardly adorned, lush, and ceremonial. The result is a merging of the human and the animal, the animate and inanimate—a collection of “artificial organisms” that blur the boundaries between species, form, and meaning.
This visual world is inevitably shaped by personal memory. As a child, I was physically fragile, suffering repeated arm fractures that kept me isolated from traditional schooling and social life. Raised by my grandmother, I spent my days learning to sew, knit, and embroider—skills that became portals into my imagination. I made blankets, tablecloths, and dresses for dolls, building a foundation for the tactile, textile-based language I now use in my art. What began as craft became a way of telling stories.
And yet, my work reaches beyond autobiography. It is equally shaped by the fragility of our world—by ecological decay, genetic modification, pollution, and the strange beauty that emerges in their wake. We are living in an age of transformation and threat. Through my creatures and objects, I speak to our shared vulnerability and the surreal contradictions of being alive today.
In both art and life, there is always joy and pain intertwined. Nothing is ever fully beautiful—or entirely broken.