SPHERE STATES: ARTIST’S REFLECTION

Building the exhibition Sphere States has been a very introspective journey for me as an artist. This is the first show where I feel I am bringing my main theme of human connection into a political lens. As someone who strives to create connections and kindness between people, I understand that this is nuanced, and we cannot be naïve enough to think we can all simply get along.

I have been in deep discussion with friends Meaghan LaGrandeur and Kaytlin Hancock around these topics, particularly while Meg has been healing from endometriosis surgery. During that time, we came together as women to care for and support her.

This exhibition is my attempt to explore connection and opinion in a time of division. I believe in dialogue, but I also recognise that conversations about polarisation exist within uneven power structures, and not all voices are heard equally.

When I speak about unity, I am not suggesting compromise with harm or asking marginalised communities to meet oppression halfway. Unity, to me, does not mean collapsing difference into sameness. It means holding space for difference without discrimination.

The protection of dignity marks non-negotiable ethical boundaries. Some bridges cannot be built where one side denies the humanity of the other. In those cases, distance is a form of protection, not division.

In my own experience, I feel the strain of fragmentation, and my work attempts to hold tension rather than resolve it. Sphere States does not offer solutions. It stages the tension between unity and fragmentation through shape and form.

In geometry, the sphere suggests balance and equal relation. In social reality, balance is rarely present. Power is uneven. Certain centres dominate, and legitimacy is not distributed equally. The sphere therefore becomes unstable, revealing how structures that appear unified can contain deep asymmetry.

I also want to acknowledge the lens through which I see the world. I am a young white woman from Britain. Although I am the first in my family to attend university and not from generational wealth, I recognise that I move through the world with forms of privilege that shape how I am seen and heard. This exhibition does not attempt to universalise my experience or apply it to all; I am simply trying to speak honestly and openly.

This exhibition does not hold solutions. What it offers is space for conversations, for sitting with difference and discomfort. From that place, perhaps more humane ways of living alongside one another can emerge. At a time when war, violence, and political rupture shape public discourse, this work reflects the urgency of confronting division while committing to dignity and ethical boundaries.