Cycle 1 – Organs – Kintsugi

I have always studied a great deal.
Learning is essential to who I am: reading, questioning, understanding, making connections.
Had illness not entered my life, I believe I might have disappeared somewhere deep inside a university library, buried under extraordinary piles of books.

This work was drawn from my bed.
At the time, I was enrolled in a distance-learning psychology degree.
I was already ill, already disabled by Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and the mother of a two-year-old child.

Despite pain and overwhelming fatigue, I took pleasure in challenging my mind, in nurturing that part of myself that thinks, analyzes, and connects.
Until one day, something shifted.

What had once been fluid became laborious.
Thinking required immense effort.
My body was broken — I could still live with that.
But when my mind began to fail me, I felt as though I were losing an essential part of my identity.

The body was broken.
The mind as well.
What, then, remained of me?

This work emerged from that question.
It does not seek invisible repair, but rather reveals fractures, turning them into lines of force, transforming the break into a language.