A golden ground, once radiant, is now consumed by darkness: tar spreads across its surface like the scars of history. At its centre, an open wound gapes, raw and visceral. It is not only a symbol of pain, but of resilience, survival and rebirth.
The wound, shaped like a vaginal opening, must not be read in a sexual context but as a reference to birth amid destruction. After war and violence, people do not simply vanish; they endure. They forge their existence in the ruins, in the spaces conflict leaves behind. Life persists even in devastation.
The contrast between gold and black, between suffering and transformation, reflects the paradox of war’s aftermath: trauma persists, yet so does the need to move forward. textures of resin and fabric add depth, rendering the wound almost tangible, as if it continued to pulse, to breathe, refusing to close. Hatred is inherent to destruction, but so is the will to survive. This piece bears witness to the human capacity to adapt, to find shelter in the very spaces meant to annihilate. It asks: can pain itself become a home?
