Making latex casts of windows, walls, and other thresholds began with an impulsive act of withdrawal. While working in her studio, the artist felt her personal space repeatedly intruded upon by neighbours whose balconies faced her windows. Their lingering gaze, directed not only at her work but at the intimate space in which it was made, felt violating. In the midst of coating a plaster cast with liquid latex, she followed an instinct and began painting the studio windows with the same milky substance. Layer after layer built up on the glass, sealing off the unwanted viewers. Only later, when the latex peeled away in thick, fleshy sheets, did the material reveal itself as a kind of skin.

Holding her studio’s ‘skin’ in her hands, the artist began to consider the metaphor within. Perhaps the self is not contained by the physical body alone; perhaps our skin extends into the spaces that hold meaning for us. Rooms, objects, doors, and windows become membranes - thresholds that both protect and connect us to the world beyond, expanding the boundaries of where the self begins and ends.