A few months before the end of the year, The Dowse Art Museum reached out, asking if I could create a work to fill an unexpected gap in their program. Although I was preparing for my wedding in December, it felt like an opportunity I couldn’t pass up—so I said yes. I ended up creating fifteen additional tree sculptures, expanding on my previous Pillow Garden installation.

While I was working toward the show, the world felt deeply unsettled. The ongoing war in Ukraine and the devastating situation in Gaza weighed heavily on my mind. I couldn’t do much, but I kept working, holding onto a quiet hope for peace.

Compared to the earlier iteration of Pillow Garden at Studio ToiTu, this version at The Dowse differed not only in scale but also in tone. I leaned more into utopian imagery—evoking a kind of Garden of Eden with snakes, fruit, and oddly out-of-place earthworms. I’ve always believed that a truly complete utopia needs just a touch of dystopia—a flaw, a hint of collapse—to feel real. Maybe that’s a reflection of my slightly twisted perspective.

I’m not entirely sure of my exact intentions, but I wanted to create a space where people—like children—could wander freely and feel at ease. At the same time, through these charming yet quietly unsettling creatures, I hoped to offer a subtle warning. In the end, though, I think it’s the quiet, unassuming earthworm that best reflects who I am—staying grounded and quietly holding my place in the world.