The Constructed Self I

A figure stands cloaked in royal red and violet, its head built not from flesh but from weathered wood planks and beams assembled into a face, roofed like a small dwelling, eyes detached and floating free on either side like windows keeping watch. Set against a field of gold, the effect is startling: identity here isn’t skin and bone but architecture, something constructed plank by plank, sheltering whatever lives inside. There’s a quiet unease in seeing selfhood built this way assembled, weathered, held together by frame rather than flesh. House of Self suggests that who we are is often less discovered than built: rooms added over time, a roof raised to keep something safe, eyes kept wide open even when the walls around them are old and worn. Beneath the rich fabric and gold, it asks what shelter we’ve each constructed just to carry a self through the world.