Face Melt explores the lengths women go to in order to stave off the onslaught of time. The video considers ideas of maintenance, both domestic and bodily, and the labour involved in trying to preserve an image of youth. There is a connection between the chore of ironing and the ongoing task of maintaining our appearance, both are repetitive acts of care, often invisible and expected. This work is not a critique of women or the choices we make, but rather a reflection on the social pressures placed on women to remain young forever. It questions the expectation that ageing should be hidden or corrected, and considers the emotional and physical labour involved in that process. The video also acts as a meditation. Some people find ironing meditative, not me! but the repetitive action, the time taken, and the ritual of care create a space to think about how we spend our time and who that care is usually directed towards. Self-care and taking time for oneself are important, particularly as women often carry the responsibility not only of childcare but also elderly care. Through humour and observation, Face Melt explores the relationship between the body, domestic labour, ageing, and the quiet pressures that shape women’s everyday lives.

In “Ironing ,” I explore the tension between ageing and agency, beauty and absurdity. The act of ironing my face is both satirical and sincere—a surreal ritual of control in a world that often demands submission to time. It is a performance of defiance and tenderness: not an attempt to erase the years, but to smooth them, to reframe them. This work speaks to our collective obsession with youth, yet it doesn’t mock it—it humanises it. The iron becomes a symbol of labour, of domesticity, of the quiet violence we commit against ourselves in the pursuit of perfection. By transforming a mundane household object into a tool of self-alteration, I blur the line between care and compulsion, between self-maintenance and self-erasure. Ultimately, “Ironing" is not about vanity. It is about intimacy with oneself, and the deeply human impulse to shape our own narrative—even if only on the surface.

I purposefully iron wrinkles into my sheets. I don’t chase the lines on my face, instead, I let them land where they want. Every crease, every mark, every “flaw” they encourage me to fix… I’m keeping it. On purpose. Because the whole game is rigged: Stay young. Look smooth. Don’t change. Don’t age. Don’t exist too loudly in your own skin. Nah. I’m done performing freshness like it’s a personality. Done pretending time is something to beat. If my face tells a story, I’m not editing it. If it offends the algorithm, even better. Let it wrinkle.

Using utensils found in the kitchen I travel to a different space banishing the locked in feeling we are enduring whilst living through lockdown

Water Torture is a visceral and darkly humorous video work that reimagines the act of food preparation as a form of ritualized torture. Ingredients—stand-ins for bodies—are subjected to grating, slicing, pressing, and chopping in a series of methodical, almost aggressive actions. The title evokes both the sensory intensity of the kitchen and the psychological undertones of control, submission, and endurance. By blurring the line between nourishment and violence, the work questions the power dynamics embedded in domestic labor and our relationship with consumption.

A stainless steel box grater slowly rotates in the darkness of space, its surface catching light from a distant star as it drifts among stars and galaxies — a surreal, cosmic kitchen moment.