Wooji 吴极

Her ceramic beings stand like sentinels of an unfamiliar landscape, creatures neither fully human nor entirely arboreal. They are hybrids—figures that evoke both the skeletal remains of ancient trees and the upright stance of sentient bodies. Some arch and twist like limbs reaching skyward, while others root themselves into unseen ground, their hollowed openings like breathing chambers, their spindly bases recalling the delicate balance of both tree trunks and standing figures. These are not inert objects but entities, their forms shaped by unseen forces—wind, time, movement, and perhaps memory.

Each sculpture is built by hand, layer by layer, not with the mechanical precision of an architect, but with the patience of natural growth. Their rigid structures suggest something constructed, but their fluid curves soften them, making them feel less like structures and more like living being. The straight edges, though deliberate, appear eroded, softened by an organic logic rather than strict geometry. In these works, form is not fixed—it shifts, adapts, evolves, like a tree bending with the wind or a body caught midmotion.