What this is
Therapy was before I knew what I was doing.
My father died by suicide in 2023. After that, like a Pandora's box I never asked to open, every repressed memory I had ever buried came back at once. I sat with my therapist week after week. We worked through each thing individually. Every fear, every fracture, every piece of grief I hadn't finished with yet. And somewhere in that process, I started making things.
There was no plan. No concept. No exhibition in mind. Just the need to get it out of my body and into the world.
Every piece in this collection was made in real time. Not reconstructed after the fact. Not processed and tidied and given a frame. Made while I was falling apart, in the middle of it. The materials are simple. What happened wasn't. These are the originals. They still carry the moment.
What Therapy taught me, accidentally, which is how the most useful things get learned, is that geometry holds feeling. That you don't have to explain everything. You can just hold something in color and space and let it mean what it needs to mean to whoever is standing in front of it.
This collection is not about looking back at trauma. It is the trauma. Preserved. Still warm.
My father died by suicide in 2023. After that, like a Pandora's box I never asked to open, every repressed memory I had ever buried came back at once. I sat with my therapist week after week. We worked through each thing individually. Every fear, every fracture, every piece of grief I hadn't finished with yet. And somewhere in that process, I started making things.
There was no plan. No concept. No exhibition in mind. Just the need to get it out of my body and into the world.
Every piece in this collection was made in real time. Not reconstructed after the fact. Not processed and tidied and given a frame. Made while I was falling apart, in the middle of it. The materials are simple. What happened wasn't. These are the originals. They still carry the moment.
What Therapy taught me, accidentally, which is how the most useful things get learned, is that geometry holds feeling. That you don't have to explain everything. You can just hold something in color and space and let it mean what it needs to mean to whoever is standing in front of it.
This collection is not about looking back at trauma. It is the trauma. Preserved. Still warm.
The Collection
(My therapist is very proud)