Womb

Womb like the many petaled flower, waxing and waning like the moon, changing position and colour and function throughout the month and seeding, then shedding, then regrowing to seed again. Nothing truly stagnates in the body, even after death, and the womb reflects the growth and grief that the month brought to the agent of the body.
The womb is an agent in and of itself, expressing its own primal desires and functioning, animalistic.

wax petals and wax vessel.
Thinking about how the body is deceptive; it seems like we are filled with a series of vessels; stomach, bladder, womb, ovaries. But these 'Vessels' don't function in the same way as we might visualise- these fleshy and soft membranes are somewhat solid, opening when necessary, but never truly empty. So my sculptures are like a body in bloom, a body that isn't alive but is almost calcified or fossilised some mid way through the blooming process, caught in its secret moment. That's why nothing is true to its anatomical size. things bloat and bloom at different rates, like the bacteria or the life previously led was a catalyst for some strange and unpredictable reaction that changes its form.