There are 206 bones within the human body. The range of motion hinges upon intricate joints, all attached by the same connective tissue. The musculoskeletal structures of the human form, push and pull the extremities, from which we embrace the world. In contrast to the strength of raw muscle, the fragility of the human body is just as prevalent. Torn, twisted, stretched, and pulled ligaments, the cracking of joints, the pop of a socket: A feeling of the body and its capabilities. From the hands to the shoulders, the jaw to the tailbone, and the hips to the toes, all held together by fascia. In my own experience living with Hypermobility, a connective tissue disorder, I have found the limit to my body and the pain that comes. In my compositions, I portray the rawness and discomfort of the human and my relationship with my own body relative to these themes. A significant source of inspiration is circumstantial situations of bodily injury and unnatural contortion. Themes of chronic pain, mental illness, motherhood, and pregnancy resonate within the constructed body forms. This series is an introspection of the human form on a physical and mental level, sculpting the surreal formations with the body.
Upside down, the blood rushes to my head. My neck cracks.
In elementary school, I had always been able to stretch the furthest in the Sit and Reach Test. As the biggest in my class it seemed counterintuitive.
My hands speak more that my lips, and yet the bones shift at every move.
My hands on my hands adjusting, messaging, stretching but still the
itch never subsides
I extend and extend, far past the average person. Pop.
Grasping ever touching, its hands are inside gripping my bones. My arms are not my own.
Ache as I wake. Ache as I lay to sleep. Stiff with every step, and yet my legs remain restless into the dead of night.
Rolling, bending... crack. I should be able to gather my footing, nevertheless my ankle has failed me.
A change in perspective. At the moment of acceptance I was confronted with the reality, my weight was a catalyst for the pain. I imagine if I had been smaller, would my joints ache?
Broken wallows of despair. My body is not the same. I hurt at rest and at every step, this flesh a prison I must abide.