Scars is a simulacrum that testifies the effect of time and experience on the human figure.
This “nature armour” that appears like as an abnormal hollow trunk of a tree, creates a symbiotic bond with the person that wears it.
Every trace that appears on the surface is the outcome of an attentive and extended sampling of the signs of breaking and growing of many types of plant: some are sharper, others are healed, with many wounds that get closer and then overlap.
Every fragment has been assembled on the silhouette of a woman’s bust, to create a corset that can be worn with leather straps. It becomes an exoskeleton on which one can read the stratification of time, a coriaceous armour made to defend the human being from its vulnerability, an instrument of torture or constriction that weighs on the shoulders of whoever wears it.
In contrast with its external aspect, the gold that covers the internal surface gives back a vital impulse. Just like a freshly dug cortex, it radiates a luminous glow that indicates alive and pulsating matter.
Scars, beside being a reflection on the dynamics of personal growth and fortification, invites to reflect on the human-nature relationship, suggesting that we retrieve that contact point that is direct, experiential, and necessary for our survival.