This work came from a personal response to experiences of domestic violence, and from thinking about water—its ability to cleanse and carry away, but also its power to injure or drown. I was interested in that tension between surrendering and resisting, being held just at the edge of going under.

I was exploring how personal and ecological violences are connected—how they echo each other—by looking at them through the lens of cyclical systems and larger forces. The story of Aino, from the Kalevala, was a key reference point. In the myth, Aino escapes an unwanted marriage by transforming through drowning—becoming part of the environment itself. That idea of choosing transformation over subjugation really stuck with me.

The work is built from slowed-down video footage of a naked figure drifting through water. The current becomes fractured and crystalline, while the body moves more smoothly—almost outside of time. Over the course of the piece, the colours shift from soft pinks to deep reds, eventually dissolving completely.

I was thinking a lot about fragmentation—how trauma can split mind from body, and how time feels nonlinear when you’re inside that kind of experience. The piece sits in that space between rupture and repair, disappearance and re-emergence.

The sound was made from a mix of field recordings of local cockatoos, improvised piano, and improvised vocals. The lyrics emerged through spontaneous play, moving through metaphor and archetype, using subversive and symbolic language to reckon with violence and strip it of its power. Improvisation is central to my process—not just creatively, but politically. Play helps regulate the nervous system; it’s the opposite of survival mode. It allows space for the unknown, invites agency, and becomes a way to resist control while staying open.