Sculpture

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 48H × 41 W × 20 D cm

This sculpture holds the duality of a woman’s becoming, 

a portrait of healing as a continuous unfolding.

One side flourishes with delicate petals, symbols of beauty, resilience, and quiet growth. The other is raw and rigid, marked by the weight of lived experience in a world that does not always make space for softness.

From the open back of her head, more petals emerge, not because she is untouched by hardship, but because she has grown through it.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 13 H × 46 W × 27 D cm

This piece does not present the body as an object of beauty or desire, it offers it as a vessel of emotion.

In this moment of exposure, tension rises beneath the skin. The form is not polished or idealized, but honest, raw with emotion, alive with sensation.

It speaks to the fragile space between strength and surrender, where being seen feels both powerful and painful.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 14H × 35 W × 25 D cm

This piece was created during the Woman, Life, Freedom movement in Iran. It draws on a Persian poem: “Whatever axe you swung, it didn’t wound me; I became a sprout.”

Her eyes are closed. Her face is still—almost lifeless. Yet from the side of her head, flowers bloom.
This contrast is deliberate. She may appear silenced or subdued, but the truth is in the blossoming: resistance takes root in the quiet, in the unseen. This is not an end—it’s a becoming.

A tribute to every woman who’s been cut down and found a way to rise again.
Not despite the wound. But through it.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 15 H × 46 W × 25 D cm

This piece holds the weight of invisible struggle. The scream is there, but it's silent, trapped beneath the surface. Pain lives in every line, yet so does a quiet defiance.

It speaks to the exhaustion of being unheard, the ache of emotional suppression, and the strength it takes just to rise. 

Even in silence, she resists. Even in pain, she reaches.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 39H × 31 W × 21 D cm

This sculpture holds both weight and wonder.

Emerging from bark and stone, her form is part earth, part becoming. Her body carries the rough texture of a tree—marked, weathered, cracked. Yet from this surface, life pushes through.

Her face, smooth and composed like a mask, rests calmly above it all.

She doesn’t resist the heaviness, she rises through it.

This is a portrait of grounded strength.The kind that grows slowly. Quietly. Deeply.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 15H × 32 W × 38 D cm

This piece holds the pleasure of surrender—the quiet satisfaction of giving in, even as you’re being overtaken.
Flowers cover her eyes and crown her head; a vine winds gently around her neck. And still, she smirks.
There’s no struggle here. Only presence.
A moment of indulgence where beauty and entanglement coexist—where being wrapped up in something doesn’t mean being lost, but being fully in it.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 14H × 43 W × 21 D cm

This is a portrait of inner tension and quiet resilience, a moment of facing one’s own brokenness with softness instead of shame.

Of learning to touch what hurts, and stay.

She closes her eyes—not to escape, but to feel.

With fingers lightly resting on her skin, she meets the fractures beneath, 

cracks that speak of pressure, of time, of all that has been held inside.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 15H × 32 W × 38 D cm

This piece was born in a moment of protest, in the midst of pain. It holds the weight of being silenced, of trying to rise, to scream, to live freely, while being pushed down. The message is clear: don’t see, don’t speak.

It is about what it means to resist when you’re not allowed to move. To speak when your voice is stolen.

This work carries the rage, the suffocation, and the unrelenting desire for freedom that lives in every woman forced to swallow her voice.

Ceramic Sculpture

Dimensions: 18H × 42 W × 18 D cm

This sculpture speaks to the quiet erasure of identity—when you’re expected to be someone the world understands, instead of who you truly are.

With one hand, she begins to peel away the mask. The surface is calm, controlled, composed. But beneath it lies a different truth: a face contorted not in rage, but in silent pain.

It’s a portrait of what it takes to wear peace while holding grief.
For those who cannot live openly—for reasons the world refuses to understand, this piece gives form to the tension between survival and authenticity.