Group Exhibition at ST.ART Gallery, London, UK.
The (Actually) Attainable Art Fair celebrates emerging voices by bringing together a rich variety of practices, including painting, sculpture, photography, and ceramics. The collection is rooted in making art more approachable for new collectors while supporting artists with fair recognition.

In May 2025 I showcased work that explores the materiality of the body, examining the tactile relationship between form, surface, and embodied presence. I exhibited 18 ceramic pieces as part of a group show featuring 18 artists working across painting, sculpture, photography, and ceramics.

Located in the heart of Fitzrovia, Start Gallery is a purpose-driven space committed to showcasing emerging and established artists across diverse media. The gallery’s transparent and inclusive approach provided an ideal setting for this accessible and thoughtfully curated fair.
Photo by Kolya
Photo by Oliver
Photo by Leo
Photo by Paul
Photo by Lea
Photo by Fabrice
Below are some of the pieces featured in the show. The remaining collection is available on ST.ART gallery's website until July 2026.
Cómprese una Cabeza y Sabrá Quién es, 2024 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
11.5cm x 19cm x 18cm

What if we could actually change our heads? This piece is inspired by Benito Fernández (1957), a one-act farce by Elena Garro and her theatrical response to a painful moment in her life. The scene portrays a man selling heads in La Lagunilla, a traditional public market in Mexico City, calling out: "Heads! Heads! The best in Mexico! Change your head to change your luck! New head, new year!" He offers a wide selection: Black, Spanish nobleman, Indigenous, Insurgent, Creole woman, Foreigner. Through this, Garro explores the mestizo’s struggle with identity, caught between contradictions—wanting to be only blonde, only white, rejecting Indigenous or Black heritage. Benito asks: “Do you have heads that fit me? Heads of noble lineage?” The play closes with the line: "Buy a head, and you’ll know who you are."
Judging in silence, 2025 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
5cm x 12cm x 4cm

‘Judging in silence’ explores themes of judgment and inner conflict. For me, it serves as a reminder of the multiple voices that echo inside our heads, the relentless internal dialogue that shapes how we see ourselves. These are often the harshest judgments we face, the ones we impose on ourselves. We are our own toughest critics, caught in an endless cycle of scrutiny and doubt. Yet, what if we softened those voices? Perhaps the real challenge is not to silence them but to listen with compassion.
Svacchanda, 2025 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
10.5cm x 7cm x 8cm

This piece is called Svacchanda, a Sanskrit word that means moving freely, following one’s own will, acting without constraint. The sculpture reflects on how the body holds both discipline and freedom. In some Tantric traditions, the body is not something to rise above but something to work with. Through touch, through ritual, through repetition, the body becomes a site of transformation. I am drawn to the material side of those practices. The way the body is marked, shaped, even redefined through small acts. Placing. Tracing. Covering. Uncovering. This piece is about that space. Where control meets release. Where presence becomes form.
Śabda, 2025 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
12cm x 14cm x 15cm

This piece is named 'śabda', a Sanskrit word that means sound, speech, voice. But not just any sound; śabda is the kind of utterance that carries weight. The kind that can shape thought, or mark a turning point. It is also the word for verbal testimony, for language as a source of knowledge. I have been drawn to the power of words. To how language moves through the body. To how it performs. Words can carry us forward. They can also hold us in place.
Neither In Nor Out, 2025 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
6cm x 20cm x 6.5cm

This piece is called ‘Neither in nor out’. It is about what a home is made of. Home, not as shelter, but as a place where roles, memories, and boundaries blur. Home can be grounding, but it can also hold certain truths that we want to unlearn. The piece explores the threshold between comfort and exploration. The learning that happens in that in-between space, when home no longer feels like home, and the outside still feels unfamiliar and uncertain. This piece is dynamic. The creatures can be placed inside or out. Their position changes, as does their sense of belonging.
Apacaya (unmaking), 2025 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
8cm x 8.5cm x 5cm

This piece is called ‘Apacaya’, a Sanskrit word that means unmaking, dismantling, or wearing away. One of the most difficult things in life is unlearning. Shedding old dynamics, old fears. Especially the ones that know how to disguise themselves. The ones that wear costumes and call themselves truth. It is about unlearning. Not as forgetting, but as loosening. Letting go of what was taught, what was expected, what once made sense. The figures are close, but not fixed. Their expressions shift depending on where you stand. Unmaking is not erasure. It is slow. It happens in conversation, in silence, in the space between people. This piece sits in that space.
Kālapūruṣaḥ II, 2024 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
6.5cm x 6cm x 7.5cm

Kālapūruṣaḥ is a Sanskrit term. It means the embodiment of time. Not something we can hold, but something that moves through us. This is the second in a series of three. Each one is a study in emotion. How it shifts. How it settles. How it fades. The face does not offer an answer. It just stays long enough for something to be felt. Time carries everything. And then it does not. This piece is about that.
Darcia, Darla y Dahlia, 2025 (sold)
Stoneware clay, glaze
6cm x 15cm x 6cm

This piece came into being after reading ‘The Hearing Trumpet*’* by Leonora Carrington. Such a strange and wonderful novel. Surreal, sharp, and full of characters who refuse to be defined by age, logic, or reality. I imagine these three as if they belonged in that world. Maybe they live behind the convent. Their names arrived first: Darcia, Darla, Dahlia. Carrington’s novel reminds us that transformation can happen at any moment. That the absurd might be the most honest language we have. This piece carries that spirit.

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