What if the very ground we stand on is made of the parts of ourselves we wish we could forget or change?
This figure stands still, elevated, exposed, yet not triumphant. The base is alive with faces and twisted expressions. The things we fail to tend to, the events and emotions we carry, do not disappear. We step on them, and they become the ground beneath our feet.
A bird rests on the shoulder like a lingering thought. The face tilts upward, holding both hope and ache in equal weight.
This piece asks what we become when we try to step over ourselves.