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The sculptures in The Wrong Body take the shape of the Maneki-neko, a figure that appears throughout my practice, but here the cat is rebuilt from materials that resist it.
Each piece is made from a silicone “skin” molded to the cat’s outline and packed with hollow noodles, rice, and bits of newspaper.
From a distance, the forms read as familiar—almost faithful to the original charm—but the closer you get, the more the seams begin to show.
The fillings shift inside the shell, pushing in odd places, loosening others.
The sculptures look like bodies trying to remember themselves but losing the instructions halfway through.
I’m drawn to that moment when a symbol stays intact but its substance falls apart.
These cats aren’t jokes or replicas; they feel more like quiet, incorrect bodies—shapes that inherited a form without inheriting the right materials.
What remains is a soft tension between recognition and failure, a body that fits only in outline.
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