top of page
Infinite Tomorrows, 2020
video performance with my mother
This fairly mortal body of mine is trying to hide from the outside world. I lie and deny my own being as I want to be reshaped; to be another kind of my own self. I start performing with my mother, the comforting thought of returning back into the womb as a matter of shame. Contracted muscles...as I become smaller and smaller; back into the warm, familiar, claustrophobic space. A cold hand made out of clay is pulling me out of my enclosure. I failed ‘to become’; I am still my same self.
bottom of page