The Wounded

The body does not collapse inward—
it leans outward.
The curve of the back opens, not closes. The chest lifts, the head tilts upward—almost searching, almost calling. It is a gesture of exposure, not protection.
This is not a body hiding its wound.
It is a body bearing it.
The tension runs through that arc—between gravity pulling it down and something within still reaching up. The form stretches as if resisting disappearance, holding onto presence despite the weight it carries.
And that vertical element—no longer just an intrusion—becomes a point of rupture that the body refuses to surrender to. It does not define the figure; it is simply there, while the body continues beyond it.
Under the light, the sculpture feels less like defeat…
and more like a fragile act of defiance.
Not “I am broken.”
But:
“I am still here.”