This is not rope—it’s doctrine.
This is not canvas—it’s territory.
Each piece in this series is a map. A map of how bodies, minds, and identities are bound—quietly, daily, ritualistically. The ropes spread outward from the center like a virus or a religion, as if autonomy were a stain to be cleaned, contained, or erased. The knots do not simply hold; they dictate. Each thread pulls us away from ourselves—toward order, toward obedience, toward forgetting.
While the shapes differ, the logic remains: something must always hold the center. Be it the state, tradition, family, gender, virtue. The multiplicity of these canvases reflects how control mutates to fit its host, how ideology can look like aesthetic, how silence can masquerade as serenity.
This is not about freedom. It’s about the architecture of its absence.
