This small sculpture was made out of salt dough —
it was the only material I had at the time.
I made it right after leaving the occupation.
The face here represents Kharkiv. My city. A city breaking apart from the inside because of the war.
As if it’s crying — not with eyes, but with streets, buildings, and cracks in memory.
It’s about how a place that once was home becomes pain.
Not because you stopped loving it, but because it’s suffering.
And you suffer with it.
This piece is about the body, about vulnerability — about how pain doesn’t make you weak.
I often wonder why we’re taught to hide our tears, clench our jaws, endure in silence. As if feeling is already a mistake. As if something leaking out of you means you’re broken.
