My Art
My work carries the quiet imprint of my cancer journey.
During those months, the world narrowed to hospital rooms, long corridors, and the silent language of machines. I began to notice shapes I had never seen before. The endless tunnel of the scanner. The strange geometry that surrounds a body lying still beneath enormous machines. The pale whiteness of hospital sheets and the soft, unfamiliar colors that live in clinical spaces. These images stayed with me. Later, they slowly returned through clay.
Even the smallest moments became meaningful. The rare relief when a nurse finds a vein on the first try. The long stillness of waiting. The way light falls across a quiet room where time feels suspended.
Those experiences changed the way I understand form. My body itself was no longer symmetrical. Surgery and treatment had altered it. At first that felt like loss, but clay taught me something different. Beauty does not live in perfection. It lives in what cannot be repeated.
In my work you may notice uneven curves, quiet distortions, forms that lean gently away from balance. They are not mistakes. They are echoes, reminders that nothing alive is perfectly equal.
Each piece carries something from that time. Sometimes it appears in the shape. Sometimes in the softness of color. Sometimes simply in the silence a form holds.
Through this work I also hope to bring attention to one of the most common cancers, a disease many people still know too little about. If these objects can hold even a small part of that story, then they carry more than clay. They carry survival.
Chlloolly is shaped by everything that journey left behind. The fear. The patience. The fragile strength of healing. And the quiet realization that the most beautiful things are often the ones that are imperfect, unrepeatable, and deeply human.