What does it mean to hold something in place when its nature is to fall? 
In Gravity Control, vulnerability becomes form. Once pliable and alive, a soft fabric is frozen mid-fall, transformed through fire into fragile porcelain. The folds speak of surrender, of yielding to gravity, to time, to the inevitable pull of forces beyond our will. Yet around this descent, leather cords tighten. Their presence suggests an external will, an attempt to restrain, to impose order on what is natural, organic, and collapsing.
In this suspended moment, I explore the quiet drama of gentle and violent resistance, the tension between freedom and containment, softness and structure, fragility and control.