The Unseen Revolution
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Two wings surge from dark waters, their feathers heavy with tears—Mental liberation, fighting to breathe despite weight.
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Gold-mended cracks trace silent battles fought behind "I’m fine"—Colonial wounds & personal pain transformed into strength.
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Resin Tears—Buried grief of “invisible” Malaysians (overworked migrants, isolated elders).
My vision in this piece tend to show these wings rise from silent wars - the private battles we fight behind "I'm fine".
"Who gets to be seen under this sky?"
Beneath the surface of everyday life, there’s countless struggles that remain unseen. The student hiding panic attacks behind exams, the migrant worker swallowing grief for wages, the elder whose loneliness is called “peace”.
Society overlooks these silent battles—the anxiety, depression, and stress etched into invisible lives. We assume the surface calm means “fine”, ignoring the weight carried behind closed doors.
These are wars waged without witnesses, where hands still reach toward freedom, unnoticed by the world rushing past.
The Depths
The dark water holds figures without faces—because pain is universal, yet often anonymous. They are all of us: carrying anxieties, regrets, or grief we rarely voice.
The Ascent
But from their hands, wings emerge. Not as escape, but as proof: even when trapped in our deepest seas, we instinctively reach for air. The pastel hues aren’t naive hope—they’re the quiet courage to believe we can surface.
The Gold
Cracks in the wings are filled with gold—not to hide brokenness, but to honor it. In Malaysia, where ‘taboos’ bury mental battles, this is resistance: every mended piece is a story of survival.
Medium
Polymer Clay & Epoxy resin
Size
26cm(L) x 26cm(W) x 20cm (H)
Process & Craftsmanship
Key Steps:
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Key Steps:
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Wing structure qualitative
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Hand-sculpted polymer clay feathers (pastel-to-dark gradient)
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Water surface resin base
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Soft Pastels & Mica Powder for gradient shimmering effect
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Final coating with Polyurethane Varnish + UV Resin
The wings soar, scarred—and sacred.
“Emergence” is for every who has ever drowned in silence—bearing anxiety like an anchor, smiling while their mind screams, “I’m not okay.”
These wings are our collective spirit: scarred with gold-mended cracks, each fracture a testament to the weight we carry. They surge upward from depths where no light reaches, dragging resin tears like unshed grief. The water’s surface isn’t calm—it’s a battlefield. Every droplet clinging to the feathers is a victory wrested from the dark.
The colors tell our story:
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Deep blues: The suffocating pressure of expectations, the loneliness no one sees.
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Purple to pink: The bruise of stigma transforming into self-compassion.
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White at the tips: The clarity that comes when we break surface—not ‘cured,’ but free to breathe.
The gold-mended cracks are not repairs, but alchemy: proof we forge resilience from drowning. This flight is Desperate. Messy. Unfinished. Because mental freedom is not victory—it’s the daily choice to swim when you want to sink.
Hence, these wings rise not for those who soar, but for the millions still submerged. They are a plea: See our invisible war. Redefine freedom. Honor every mind’s right to emerge.
