Love Like a Child
I think my heart still feels like a child’s, especially when it comes to love. I don’t fully understand it. That’s where my work begins.
One story that’s stuck with me since I was little is Where the Wild Things Are. In it, Max gets in trouble and escapes into a world full of wild creatures. But those creatures aren’t just imaginary. They feel like parts of him—his anger, sadness, and desire. That scene always made me think of the story of the prodigal son. A kind of love that waits for you, no matter what. I still don’t completely understand that kind of love, and maybe I never will.
That’s why I make sculptures—trying to shape the kind of love I don’t really get yet. Love seen through a child’s eyes. Like Max facing his monsters, I bring out my own inner creatures and give them form. I call them wild babies. They want love, but they also carry all the messy parts of it—fear, obsession, confusion.
Their shapes are weird, sometimes even uncomfortable to look at. Some have two faces. Others have human-like hands or feet growing from strange parts of their bodies. I make them out of clay and plaster, and use wig hair or sculpted body parts to give them something close to human. They might look monstrous, but I don’t think they’re far from being human. They live in that space between what feels familiar and what doesn’t.
Inside each one, I put feelings I don’t know how to control—desires, questions, things I can’t explain. I also create the places where they live. Through installations and paintings, I make spaces where they can exist, breathe, and be cared for. Even if they seem strange to others, I want to protect them.
Love is not always beautiful or comforting. It can be flawed, chaotic, and even monstrous. My sculptures give physical form to the complicated faces of love.
