Entre Genres captures the essence of a cloud in a bottle, where airy meets musk in an interplay of weightlessness and sensuality.
Entre Genres—between genders—echoes in the in-between: between what’s seen and what’s felt, between softness and sharpness, between what we carry and what we choose to let go.
When I wrap and weave with reclaimed materials—veggie mesh bags, marine line, sari yarn, beads, cowrie shells, bottle caps—I’m telling stories that don’t fit neatly into boxes. These are stories about how gender, race, memory, and power collide. They’re messy, layered, sometimes contradictory—just like the objects I gather.
I don’t believe in fixed categories. My practice is fluid. A soft sculpture can be a shield. A braid can draw a boundary. A shopping cart can carry both trauma and transformation. The materials I use slip between definitions—just like I do.
In my hands, materials shift. They become tools of protection, celebration, resistance. I’m not interested in clean edges—I’m drawn to what happens when we blur them, stretch them, braid something new from the fray.
That’s where the beauty lives—in the becoming.
When I first smelled the fragrance—a cloud of musks—I thought of sunrise. That first light brushing across the sky, the hush of morning dew, the coo of doves at dawn. I wanted to turn that feeling into form—something you don’t just see, but sense, like the memory of a sun-kissed face.
Every material was chosen for how it plays with light—how it glows, reflects, and diffuses, just like scent disperses in the air. The musks—warm, intimate, almost skin-like—inspired my palette and textures.
Rather than represent the scent literally, I focused on the sensation—how musk lingers close to the body, how it lives in that space between presence and absence. This piece doesn’t just exist in space; it inhabits it, like a fragrance does. It’s about drift, about trace, about what lingers.
Much of my work lives in this realm—between touch and memory, between what’s held and what’s released. A cloud of musks became an invitation to make something that doesn’t shout, but whispers. Something that floats in the air between us.
