Ouroboros, 2021
15’ x 11’ x 11’

what happens when a person is uprooted?
at worst: they become lost, often without realizing it.
sometimes, roots are severed so abruptly that they’re cut off from the nutrients that once sustained them. such a shock can make them never look back, think back, or reflect on the source of their emergence — let alone revisit it. the loss of concreteness is mistaken for a lack of internal compass, and they roam in search of certainty, misreading every signal.

at best: they adapt to new soil, often without realizing it.
their roots aren’t gone — they’re just curled up, tucked away at the bottom of a purse or somewhere in a pocket. they learn to grow from concrete, finding solace in discomfort. adaptive, flexible, a chameleon of sorts. at ease with change, contrast, and undefinability, they flourish.

in life, as in people, “best” and “worst” rarely exist in pure form.

instead, we find ourselves somewhere in-between.