In my series of belts, I contrast the wild and threatening elements of nature with the safety and security of human-made spaces. Even when living in an apartment filled with safe and clean objects, we cannot entirely escape natural threats like insects, mold, and other biological intrusions. Through the contrast of textures, I convey the sensation of something chaotic and unsettling invading.
This is a manifesto asserting that even in the most fortified space, we remain part of a wild ecosystem that will always find a way to penetrate the perfect human facade.
By buying expensive things, we can easily forget that among the furs, favorite jackets, and treasured t-shirts live those who can effortlessly destroy the items—along with the meaning we’ve ascribed to them.
Houseplants, gifted potted roses, and cacti sit on windowsills in almost every apartment, bringing joy to the eye. It’s easy to forget that even within tiny decorative planters full of flowers, wild nature’s chaos can be hidden.
Spider mites move at a speed of 18 mph and lay up to 200 eggs in their lifetime. A mere pair of unassuming bugs can turn a home’s fashionable floral collection into chaos.
The base of the belt is designed like a rug—a historical symbol of domestic comfort and warmth. For centuries, the rug has created the illusion of absolute safety within the home. A massive, aggressive insect figure seems to have just crawled out from beneath this rug, from the dark, damp depths of the floor that the human is trying to conceal.
