This piece is a manifesto — a fusion of body, architecture, and landscape. It was born from the idea that the boundary between self and world is not fixed but fluid. Inspired by fog, water distortions, and the shimmer of things half-seen, Reflection creates a space for contemplating the delicacy of perception. A wire frame forms a distorted silhouette — raw and fragile at once — while fragments of mirror scatter and dissolve the viewer’s sense of edge and form. White ribbons react to wind and movement, transforming the costume not into a character, but into a natural phenomenon. The base is made of undyed linen in a skin-toned hue, blurring the line between body and garment. Reflection is the architecture of an inner city, where the outside world becomes a mirror of what’s within. It invites the wearer to vanish into the environment — to become a fleeting phenomenon.

More than attire, this is a spatial sculpture — something that fuses with the body rather than rests upon it. Branching Hands explores transformation: arms become branches, fabric loses its solidity, revealing movement, breath, fragility. It asks: where does the human end and the natural begin? Real dry branches pierce through shredded, hand-dyed layers of fabric, as though growing from within. Muted tones blend with the landscape. Leather straps both secure the form and create tension between wildness and control. Branching Hands is not a character but a forest spirit, a drifting presence — an outward and inward sprouting, a root system of emotion, extending into space.