Impermanence Of The Physical

Impermanence of the Physical began to question the assumption of permanence itself. 

I turned to fossilised forms — structures that appear fixed yet are evidence of immense transformation. Fossils hold time within them. They suggest solidity, but are born from pressure, erosion, and change. 

Through fabric and print, forms overlapped, separated, and dissolved. Surfaces carried traces of contact and release. What seemed defined began to adapt. What felt stable began to disappear. 

Layering evolved here. It was no longer only a way to hold contradiction, but a way to register time. Each mark contained previous states. Each surface revealed that nothing exists in isolation — form is always shaped through relation. 

Action, reaction and response became a structural method in the tactile process of print making.  

In confronting impermanence, I was also confronting attachment. The desire for fixity often breeds fear. These works sought to reframe change as continuity — not rupture, but adaptation. 

Movement entered more consciously. Fabric responded to air and gravity. Structure was negotiated rather than imposed. Through this subtle surrender, my understanding of clarity shifted. 

Clarity was no longer about stabilising tension. It began to emerge through trust in transition. 

Here, suspension extended beyond material into time itself. Forms hovered between becoming and eroding. Coherence did not rely on permanence. It gathered through change.