This sculpture explores the fragile threshold between nature and identity, between belonging and separation.
A dense mass of dry branches forms a nest-like structure, an organic tangle of roots, memories, and ancestral traces. Emerging from this chaotic body is a translucent human face woven from white fiber, almost weightless, as if it were a breath, a memory, or a soul taking shape.
The contrast between the two materials is essential to the work's meaning. The dark, tangled branches evoke the primordial world: nature in its raw, unpredictable state, the place from which all life originates. The delicate fiber profile introduces consciousness and self-awareness, yet it remains transparent and permeable, never fully detached from the matter that generated it.
The face is intentionally incomplete and fragile. It is not a solid portrait but a suspended presence, suggesting that identity is never fixed. It is an ever-changing construction, woven from experiences, memories, relationships, and the invisible threads that bind us to our origins.
The sculpture inhabits the tension between chaos and order, permanence and dissolution. It asks whether we truly emerge from nature or whether we remain forever entangled within it. The nest can be read both as a place of protection and as a place of confinement; the face can be seen as a birth, an apparition, or the slow fading of memory.
Ultimately, the work speaks of the human condition itself: we are beings who seek individuality and separation, yet we remain deeply rooted in the organic, fragile, and interconnected fabric from which we come.
Entanglement is the image of identity in its most vulnerable state: the moment just before a self fully emerges, and perhaps the moment just before it returns to the collective memory of nature.
