Fallen Angel

Fallen Angel works the contrast between traditional beauty and what we are taught to call ugliness. The figure is elegant. Fragile. And defeated — fallen, fractured, incomplete.

The spikes on her back are what remains of wings. Stumps now. But they still carry the memory of flight.

Burnt, rotten wood meets the softness of the body. The tension is deliberate. It asks why we draw the line between beautiful and broken where we draw it.

The decay is not a flaw in the story. It is the story.