The Fertility of Ruin
2026
Painted and sealed air-dry clay with iridescent glass
London, United Kingdom
18 x 22 x 15 cm
ART—2601
EXHIBITION
Fragments of PresenceCollective Exhibition
Capital Culture House
Espacio Gallery, London
05—11 August 2026
View Exhibition
ArtRabbit
Capital Culture House
Espacio Gallery, London
05—11 August 2026
View Exhibition
ArtRabbit
Theresia Helen Alamsyah with curator Augusto Felipe Mendoza Mendieta beside The Fertility of Ruin (2026), Fragments of Presence, Espacio Gallery, London.
August 2026
August 2026
An autobiographical self-portrait formed from a mould of the artist’s face, The Fertility of Ruin transforms the body into a porous habitat. Its fractures were intentionally encouraged but not controlled, allowing chance and material behaviour to participate in the final form.
Fungal growth emerges through the openings of the face, presenting decomposition not as an ending, but as the ground from which another identity can develop. At its base, iridescent forms appear as fragments of crystallised light, representing the gradual return of vitality and the impulse to continue living and creating.
The work reflects the eight years between her first and second sculptures; a period shaped by movement across Australia, Indonesia and the United Kingdom. It is not a portrait of physical likeness, but of a self still being formed.
“Nothing here blooms despite the ruin.
Everything blooms because of it.”
Fungal growth emerges through the openings of the face, presenting decomposition not as an ending, but as the ground from which another identity can develop. At its base, iridescent forms appear as fragments of crystallised light, representing the gradual return of vitality and the impulse to continue living and creating.
The work reflects the eight years between her first and second sculptures; a period shaped by movement across Australia, Indonesia and the United Kingdom. It is not a portrait of physical likeness, but of a self still being formed.
“Nothing here blooms despite the ruin.
Everything blooms because of it.”
MANIFESTO
Eight years after making my first sculpture, The Fragility of Beauty, I return to the medium with an autobiographical self-portrait moulded directly from my own face.
The work is not intended as a conventional representation of my appearance. Instead, the face becomes a porous landscape, “part portrait, part habitat”, from which new organic forms emerge. It considers identity as something neither fixed nor fully self-contained, but continually reshaped by memory and the different lives we move through; “what is shed, what remains, and what begins to grow in its place.”
Cracking has remained central to my sculptural language since my first work. In 2018, the clay cracked accidentally because I had not yet understood the material’s drying process. Rather than concealing the result, I became interested in the uncontrolled marks it produced and the way the material seemed to participate in determining the final form.
In this second sculpture, the decision to create cracking is intentional, but its exact outcome is not controlled. I establish the conditions and then allows the material to respond. This tension between authorship and surrender was meant to reflect the uncertainty of personal choices: we may decide which direction to take, but we cannot fully predict what those decisions will produce. Each crack becomes a record of time and risk.
The fungal forms grow through the openings and fractures of the face, turning the self-portrait into an evolving ecology. Here, decomposition does not represent simple destruction. The identities we outgrow are not entirely erased; they become the material from which another version of the self can develop.
To me, the intention is to create a form of rebirth that is “fungal” rather than heroic. It is gradual, strange and dependent on what has first been allowed to break down. The former self becomes both the remains and the ground for what follows. The work is therefore a self-portrait made partly through disappearance; not of a person becoming unrecognisable, but of an existing identity becoming open enough to change.
The work is not intended as a conventional representation of my appearance. Instead, the face becomes a porous landscape, “part portrait, part habitat”, from which new organic forms emerge. It considers identity as something neither fixed nor fully self-contained, but continually reshaped by memory and the different lives we move through; “what is shed, what remains, and what begins to grow in its place.”
Cracking has remained central to my sculptural language since my first work. In 2018, the clay cracked accidentally because I had not yet understood the material’s drying process. Rather than concealing the result, I became interested in the uncontrolled marks it produced and the way the material seemed to participate in determining the final form.
In this second sculpture, the decision to create cracking is intentional, but its exact outcome is not controlled. I establish the conditions and then allows the material to respond. This tension between authorship and surrender was meant to reflect the uncertainty of personal choices: we may decide which direction to take, but we cannot fully predict what those decisions will produce. Each crack becomes a record of time and risk.
The fungal forms grow through the openings and fractures of the face, turning the self-portrait into an evolving ecology. Here, decomposition does not represent simple destruction. The identities we outgrow are not entirely erased; they become the material from which another version of the self can develop.
To me, the intention is to create a form of rebirth that is “fungal” rather than heroic. It is gradual, strange and dependent on what has first been allowed to break down. The former self becomes both the remains and the ground for what follows. The work is therefore a self-portrait made partly through disappearance; not of a person becoming unrecognisable, but of an existing identity becoming open enough to change.
The eight years between my two sculptures encompass a life shaped across Australia, Indonesia and the United Kingdom. London plays an important role within my journey, not as a place of instant reinvention, but as the environment in which these different experiences began to settle into a more independent and self-defined identity. The sculpture reflects that transition without ever presenting it as complete. It is, therefore, a portrait of someone still becoming.
At the base of the sculpture, iridescent forms gather like fragments of light crystallised into matter. Their lunar quality carries a personal connection to my Chinese heritage and name, 小月 [Xiǎoyuè], meaning “small moon.” The reference is not intended as overtly spiritual, but as an exploration of reflected light and cycles. Like the moon, the iridescent material does not hold one constant appearance. It receives light, transforms it and returns it differently.
This changing luminosity reflects my own experience of losing and gradually recovering my sense of vitality during the eight years. The forms were meant to represent that small sparks of life: moments of desire, subconscious curiosity and creative impulse that persisted, even when they were difficult to recognise. A source of energy within the work, feeding the emerging fungal ecology alongside the decomposing matter of the former self.
The new fungal form, therefore, “grow” from both darkness and luminosity: from what has broken down, and from the renewed impulse to continue living. I intend to present rebirth not as a sudden triumphant event, but as a gradual ecology sustained by remnants and returning vitality.
At the base of the sculpture, iridescent forms gather like fragments of light crystallised into matter. Their lunar quality carries a personal connection to my Chinese heritage and name, 小月 [Xiǎoyuè], meaning “small moon.” The reference is not intended as overtly spiritual, but as an exploration of reflected light and cycles. Like the moon, the iridescent material does not hold one constant appearance. It receives light, transforms it and returns it differently.
This changing luminosity reflects my own experience of losing and gradually recovering my sense of vitality during the eight years. The forms were meant to represent that small sparks of life: moments of desire, subconscious curiosity and creative impulse that persisted, even when they were difficult to recognise. A source of energy within the work, feeding the emerging fungal ecology alongside the decomposing matter of the former self.
The new fungal form, therefore, “grow” from both darkness and luminosity: from what has broken down, and from the renewed impulse to continue living. I intend to present rebirth not as a sudden triumphant event, but as a gradual ecology sustained by remnants and returning vitality.
PRESS & PUBLICATIONS
Growing From The Ruin:
A Sculpture Encouraged to
Reveal Its Cracks
Akshaya Murali Kumar
MKH
14 August 2026
Read Publication
A Sculpture Encouraged to
Reveal Its Cracks
Akshaya Murali Kumar
MKH
14 August 2026
Read Publication
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