Black Pony, 2025
glazed ceramic
apprx. 30x30x7cm
A bow,
A decoration,
neatly tight.
Countryside Pony Queen,
her glossy short hair,
enlongated neck,
oil brushed
glazed ceramic
apprx. 30x30x7cm
A bow,
A decoration,
neatly tight.
Countryside Pony Queen,
her glossy short hair,
enlongated neck,
oil brushed
In my previous series, Cunning I-IV and Veil, I explored the intimate trap of the gift. Through the imagery of hands holding apples, or the memory of a glossy precious object given to me, I examined how a gift can seduce, pamper, and eventually corrupt the receiver, turning an act of love into a subtle subjugation.
With my new work, Black Pony, I am stepping away from the contents of the gift to look entirely at its architecture. I am looking at the trap itself.
Black Pony is a singular ceramic sculpture of a voluminous bow, sealed in a thick, ultra-glossy, midnight-blue glaze that pushes into the absolute dark. It is a silk ribbon stripped of its softness, frozen in earth and glass, suspended somewhere between minimalist geometry and a highly charged, suspicious ornamentalism.
I chose the title Black Pony to trigger a deliberate emotional dissonance. What is this object, and who is it for? Perhaps it is the heavy rosette awarded to a victorious horse, a symbol of honor and physical dominance. Perhaps it is the ribbon tied around the neck of a literal pony, a lavish gift presented to a young girl to reward her compliant behavior. Or maybe it is simply the seductive casing of an empty box, designed to steer the desires of the one who unties it. It is the ambiguity of the decorative object, where a reward so easily morphs into a collar.
Lately, I have been obsessed with the concept of the exterior. The ribbon is the frame for the box; the box is the frame for the jewelry; the jewelry is the frame for the body. By scaling up this singular detail, the bow, and blasting it onto the viewer's horizon, I want to isolate the geometry of expectation. It is an object that appears functional yet is entirely functionless. It refuses to open or to serve, preserving its status as pure commodity and pure emotion.
My research into the history of gifting naturally led me to the uneasy double meaning of decoration. It brings to mind the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, who argued that our "taste", our profound desire for these beautiful objects, is never purely innocent or aesthetic, but is entirely engineered by our social class. We use the word decoration to describe a frivolous, ornamental flourish, yet it is also the exact term for a military medal, a heavy badge pinned to the chest for valor, blood, and obedience. Are these two definitions truly so different? Both are gifts bestowed by an authority; both are worn on the body to signal status, loyalty, and ultimate subjugation. By sculpting this bow in ceramic, I am deliberately petrifying the gesture. Fired in the kiln, the ceramic resists sun, water, dust, and time. It freezes a soft, fleeting ribbon into a transhistorical artifact, a fossil of human transaction built to sustain its metaphors of seduction, honor, and magic for thousands of years.
I do not want to merely tell a story with this sculpture; I want to create suspicion. When someone stands before Black Pony, I want to translate the weight of an ancient social contract. It is a gorgeous, flawless surface that feels entirely unsafe, a clinching gift, solid and heavy, quietly demanding a reciprocation that can never be paid.
With my new work, Black Pony, I am stepping away from the contents of the gift to look entirely at its architecture. I am looking at the trap itself.
Black Pony is a singular ceramic sculpture of a voluminous bow, sealed in a thick, ultra-glossy, midnight-blue glaze that pushes into the absolute dark. It is a silk ribbon stripped of its softness, frozen in earth and glass, suspended somewhere between minimalist geometry and a highly charged, suspicious ornamentalism.
I chose the title Black Pony to trigger a deliberate emotional dissonance. What is this object, and who is it for? Perhaps it is the heavy rosette awarded to a victorious horse, a symbol of honor and physical dominance. Perhaps it is the ribbon tied around the neck of a literal pony, a lavish gift presented to a young girl to reward her compliant behavior. Or maybe it is simply the seductive casing of an empty box, designed to steer the desires of the one who unties it. It is the ambiguity of the decorative object, where a reward so easily morphs into a collar.
Lately, I have been obsessed with the concept of the exterior. The ribbon is the frame for the box; the box is the frame for the jewelry; the jewelry is the frame for the body. By scaling up this singular detail, the bow, and blasting it onto the viewer's horizon, I want to isolate the geometry of expectation. It is an object that appears functional yet is entirely functionless. It refuses to open or to serve, preserving its status as pure commodity and pure emotion.
My research into the history of gifting naturally led me to the uneasy double meaning of decoration. It brings to mind the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, who argued that our "taste", our profound desire for these beautiful objects, is never purely innocent or aesthetic, but is entirely engineered by our social class. We use the word decoration to describe a frivolous, ornamental flourish, yet it is also the exact term for a military medal, a heavy badge pinned to the chest for valor, blood, and obedience. Are these two definitions truly so different? Both are gifts bestowed by an authority; both are worn on the body to signal status, loyalty, and ultimate subjugation. By sculpting this bow in ceramic, I am deliberately petrifying the gesture. Fired in the kiln, the ceramic resists sun, water, dust, and time. It freezes a soft, fleeting ribbon into a transhistorical artifact, a fossil of human transaction built to sustain its metaphors of seduction, honor, and magic for thousands of years.
I do not want to merely tell a story with this sculpture; I want to create suspicion. When someone stands before Black Pony, I want to translate the weight of an ancient social contract. It is a gorgeous, flawless surface that feels entirely unsafe, a clinching gift, solid and heavy, quietly demanding a reciprocation that can never be paid.
