This piece was a consequential result from the nightgown I previously presented, except this time I used a bra I stopped wearing a long time ago but kept in my closet for years. I like how one discovery can lead to many others once you dive in, and how the same technique can communicate an array of emotions depending on the content. The bra that for many years supported my breasts is now torn and frayed, as if it has been retired from duty and kept folded in the back away from an army of working bras. Why is it so daring to throw away an item that once served us well? I entertain the idea that there is no shortcut for bringing value to something--it must be earned. The real value of an object only exists in our fear of letting go of facets  of our past. If my theory is true, then moments are encapsulated in  objects which eternally become reminders of the past when you see them again  in the future. The act of casting my 24 years old body and creating a version of it against an old sentimental object of value is a time capsule, as I will one day try this bra on and see my past self against my future self.

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