The Withstood captures the suspended moment after force has been applied but before a break occurs. A clay form caught in the grip of a mechanical vice, it speaks to the tension between vulnerability and resilience. This piece explores endurance not as triumph, but as a quiet act of survival—of holding shape when change feels inevitable.
A fragmented head hovers mid-thought—its cranium lifted skyward, as if by unseen force, exposing a hollow interior that refuses to resolve into clarity.
Echoes captures the suspended moment between awareness and erasure, between what was and what might have been.
Rooted in the tension between vulnerability and structure, the head rests atop a cold steel plate, supported by an intricate wooden base that suggests both burden and foundation. The sculpture hints at memory’s fragility and the recursive nature of identity: what echoes within us when the self is cracked open?
A procession of faces—cast, cracked, repeated—hangs in uneasy balance. Suspended from a rusted hitch, these fragments drift between individual and collective memory.
Each face resists likeness, yet together they suggest a chorus of the nearly forgotten: tethered selves, held by time, loss, or lineage. Clay here becomes memory’s residue—what’s left after presence departs.
Trace does not ask who these figures are, but rather—what holds them. Trace is not a series of portraits, it is a persistence. What remains, when names do not.
A fragmented lower body bursts from an industrial casing, caught between resistance and release. Sirena explores the tension between the organic and the mechanical, evoking a struggle for emergence amid confinement. It reflects the fractured state of becoming in a world that often crushes transformation.
The overall gesture is one of motion arrested, caught mid-transformation or struggle. With its stark juxtaposition of material and symbolism, the piece interrogates themes of bodily autonomy, dehumanization, and the raw force of becoming.
Index of the Feminine balances on the fault line between wild instinct and internalized memory. On one side of a weathered vintage scale sits a blackened coyote skull—feral, silenced. Opposite it, a sculpted petite female torso emerges: darkened, partially abstracted, held mid-motion. The scale, no longer calibrated to measure weight, becomes a relic for something less tangible—identity, instinct, femininity, absence.
This piece draws from natural history and personal mythology, evoking museum vitrines, forensic displays, and devotional altars.
Index of the Feminine resists fixed interpretation, inviting instead a kind of speculative archaeology: what does it mean to archive a body? To weigh a life? To remember what we were before we were named?
Two fragile faces hover in counter-poise, suspended from a bowed steel arc anchored to a vertical piston — a pivot between what holds and what lets go.
This upright industrial relic becomes a surrogate spine — a site of tension, of weight distributed but never resolved. The tilt suggests neither harmony nor rupture, but something quieter: the soft ache of balancing selves that cannot fully meet.
In its stillness, Hinge of Selves evokes motion. In its fracture, a search for continuity. The sculpture sketches a portrait of identity as something not fixed, but forever tipping, suspended, becoming
Like watchful figures caught between realms, Sentinels stands as a silent testament to time, loss, and resilience. A warped cross-section of an old maple tree—scarred, split, and bearing the weight of age—forms a shield-like presence, an artifact of endurance.
Suspended from it by delicate red tethers, six fragmented clay faces hover in limbo, evoking ancestral echoes, forgotten voices, and the fragility of memory.
Sentinels explore the themes of protection and displacement, questioning the boundaries between presence and absence, history and erosion, wholeness and fracture. The red tether, both binding and restraining, weaves a narrative of connection across time—a fragile lifeline, resisting disappearance.
Sentinels invites viewers to stand in stillness, to listen to what is no longer spoken, and to reckon with the weight of what remains.
In Archive, an aged female face surfaces in fragments from the worn contours of driftwood—her features not simply placed upon the wood but becoming it. The lines between skin and bark blur; she is eroding into the material or perhaps rising from it. Her mouth hangs open, the jaw unnaturally unhinged—caught between a scream and a fit of laughter, impossible to name.
Split down the middle, the face is both broken and becoming, as though memory itself cracked and settled into place. The driftwood, like fossilized time, cradles what’s left—suggesting not a narrative but an impression, a residue.
Archive is a meditation on dissolution and persistence. It speaks to the ways bodies remember, deform, and transform—how identity, like matter, breaks apart and recombines into something strangely whole.
La Narrara presents a dual-faced plaster head—one half etched with age, the other smooth with youth—anchored within a circular industrial base that resembles a mechanical compass or crosshairs. The juxtaposition of a serene, timeworn visage against its youthful counterpart evokes a dialogue between past and present selves, memory and becoming. The industrial ring, repurposed as a base, reinforces themes of containment, rotation, and surveillance—perhaps even fate. Scepanovic’s choice of plaster, with its delicate fractures and ghostly whiteness, lends the work a vulnerable timelessness, as if both faces are being preserved and erased at once.