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The imperfect symmetry in the forms of ferns reminds me of a ribcage. A structure that protects our organs, otherwise vulnerable. Sometimes we need extra protection - it's not always easy to see ourselves plain - so we build a breastplate. Through my process I confront the smoothness on the quality of ferns with the hardness of bones and metal, trying to disassemble this armor piece by piece. 

What I've found underneath it's once and again the concept of grief. Grieving is killing expectations and opening up to new life perspectives. Farewell to what left or never was. Ferns parallel stripes are railway tracks that offer new routes, new possibilities. But they overlap and it's hard to know which one to take. The use of new colors help me decide but in the end, there's no way to know.

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