Fusion: A Sculpted Conversation With My Shadows
This work began as a whisper I couldn’t ignore.
A quiet but persistent murmur that said: not everything inside you is at peace. Not every part of you feels safe. And not every voice in your head is kind.
I named it Fusion because that is what I longed for — integration.
The possibility that the fragments of self, pulled in opposing directions, could somehow soften, overlap, and become whole.
The possibility that the fragments of self, pulled in opposing directions, could somehow soften, overlap, and become whole.
This piece was born out of the tension between internal chaos and the desire for harmony.
We all know what it means to fight ourselves. The harsh critic that tells us we’re not enough. The perfectionist that whispers “not yet.” The tired child inside that just wants to rest. The woman who wants to speak, but bites her tongue.
And beyond that — the noise from the outside. Expectations. Roles. Cultural pressures. Generational trauma. Perfection demanded. Softness punished.
Fusion is my answer to that noise.
It’s made of black stoneware — raw, rough, untamed. A material that holds contradictions: heavy but moldable, soft in the hands but hardened by fire. Just like us.
I shaped this sculpture over weeks, letting intuition lead. Some days it felt like wrestling with shadows.
Other days, like holding myself. The final form emerged like memory: slowly, in fragments, with deep breath and even deeper listening.
Other days, like holding myself. The final form emerged like memory: slowly, in fragments, with deep breath and even deeper listening.
There’s no face on the piece — and yet it feels alive. There’s no clear gender, no single direction, no one “right” way to view it. That’s the point. We are plural. We change. We contradict ourselves. And yet, we exist.
We deserve to exist as we are — not once we “figure it out,” but in this moment, today.
We deserve to exist as we are — not once we “figure it out,” but in this moment, today.
