In Sanskrit there is no word for the existence of I.

The English verb 'to be' comes from the Sanskrit word to grow or breath.

Like the river, endlessly flowing.

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I search for a language of body, to give form to that which is formless, to articulate a sense prior to and outside of the symbolic order. I want to establish horizontal and reciprocal relationships, a way of being in the world that hasn't severed it's ties with the logic of the earth. Of Mud and Water follows instinctual pulls to water (river) and earth (clay), vital forces that, like the body, hold potential for regeneration.

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Clay male torsos made in the final year of my degree were smashed to dust and reconstituted and used to map out an unappropriated space for my body to reside in. Just as Adam gave his own rib to create Eve, the torsos gave birth to a vulva-like form, a deeply introverted space - a Temenos.

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The security of this clay space is threatened by cracking walls, exacerbated by moving it to the exhibition space. Like an uprooted tree, the Temenos has been displaced and now sits at a precarious edge were destruction is inevitable.

Whether an act of renewal or subversion - the clay form will return to dust - to the primordial river of life and the organic complexities to which we belong.