Without the Hierarchy of Gravity

These drawings emerge from the tension between the body and its disassembly, between figuration and abstraction. Each image fragments the human (or animal) form into bulbous shapes, stippled textures, and mechanical intrusions, producing hybrid figures that are at once playful and unsettling.

The forms repeat like an invented alphabet, circles, rods, voids, textures suggesting that the body itself might be read as a language, an unstable script constantly being rewritten. What begins as a cartoon-like shape quickly mutates into something stranger: part limb, part mouth, part glyph. Humor flickers across the surfaces, but always alongside distortion, violence, or intrusion.

The straight lines and rods act as measuring devices, spears, or prosthetics, external forces that pierce or regulate the otherwise soft, vulnerable forms. They stage the clash between lived, organic subjectivity and the rigid structures imposed by culture, politics, and technology. In this collision, the body becomes a site of negotiation: porous, mutable, never whole.

Across the series, a transformation unfolds: compression and containment give way to chaotic expansion, then exhaustion, then the emergence of a new face-like figure. These works are less about stable identity than about metamorphosis, the constant becoming of a body that refuses to be fixed, even as it is punctured and constrained.

In their humor, their grotesquerie, and their disassembled anatomy, the drawings propose a vision of the self as unstable and hybrid, at once cartoon and wound, language and flesh, always caught in the act of becoming.