The Range of Motion  (The Human Form) Volume II
Mother

A test of resilience conceived out of persistence. It is born, and I, its mother.
2024

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. 

Back

Knuckle

Bare white knuckles, hands flush with blood. My fist clenches, tense with fatigue.
Pelvic Floor


A rhythmic motion, rising and falling, the floor is uneven.
Shifting plates, ignited by friction, the floor is broken.
Clavicle
Bump

It resides inside. A cold heartbeat under my skin. The pulse is not my own.
It’s All in Your Head

My thoughts are not my own. Grasping from every direction, the blight of my reality persists still. 
It

What does it feel like?

Like it has a mind of its own.
Spine

A chill down my spine, and yet I see the light. I’ve turned my back to the possibility of revitalization.
It Lurks Still

Waiting and slithering, slinking in every corner. It is still there.
Lockjaw

I am silenced by its voice. Bitten by its sheer might, I beckon respite.
Ribs 

Urging to break free of this prison, the line within lies in unrest.
Last Dance

The final battle is at hand. Still it lurks inside and yet, I fight on.
Abolition of Man

It is me and I am it. I am the one that lurks within.