PLA, hand braided cable wire, swiss watch mechanisms, cogs, gears, beads.

The year is 5008. Deep on an unnoticed, less populated planet sits a wounded girl. Alone in the dark corner of an empty room, she quietly reassembles. It is painful and slow; she does so with no manual or instruction, whilst her eyes squint with silent concentration. Her materials are suboptimal, unpreferred, but the girl has grown tired of the deep craters in her body. It is time to remodel. She sees no alternative.

The year is 6012. Two teenagers pester their parents to visit a planet they’ve never heard of. The parents puzzle over its significance; until recently they hadn’t even noticed it. Soon they hear more of the planet, of its beauty, its reported innovation, power, and self-sufficiency. Intergalactic news reads that it is led by Cyborgian females of a different race, with strict laws for tourists. It’s become a sight to see across the galaxy. The mother quietly considers visiting.

My new body of work speaks to the internal self-repairs many of us make after trauma, often unsupported, unseen, and carried out in the darker corners of the self. Black women in particular are often defined by this process and stereotyped as stronger or harder than others. My work addresses the duality of involuntary self-reconstruction: the vulnerability and pain, and the power and beauty achieved despite it all.