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Liberty is sleeping
A tall, pale figure stands with eyes gently closed, her face emerging softly from a halo of grey wool. Dark spikes jut from the wool like a crown, sharp yet strangely tender. Her surface is rough and luminous, a vertical drift of white that narrows and settles at her feet. There is a sense of stillness held deep inside her; a figure pausing, resting, withdrawn into her self. She feels like a monument caught in an everlasting moment of sleep, quiet liberty folded in upon herself, dreaming.
A tall, pale figure stands with eyes gently closed, her face emerging softly from a halo of grey wool. Dark spikes jut from the wool like a crown, sharp yet strangely tender. Her surface is rough and luminous, a vertical drift of white that narrows and settles at her feet. There is a sense of stillness held deep inside her; a figure pausing, resting, withdrawn into her self. She feels like a monument caught in an everlasting moment of sleep, quiet liberty folded in upon herself, dreaming.
About this series
Series: Objects : Figures: Cocooned
Layer by layer, I wrap my figures in clay, sand, pastel, paint and varnish over weeks, months even.
Their cocoon grows, smooth then rough, dark then light, always shifting. It is as if they are wrapping themselves in a shell of quiet.
Only the face remains uncovered, yet it feels slightly unreal, a mask of its own.
They stand on marble or wood, bound in place. They seem to have paused for too long, small beings that feel gentle and somehow strong, resting peacefully inside themselves.
Their presence is calming, reassuring, empathetic.