The Church of the Pit in Your Stomach
I sculpted this piece as phantasmagorical protection for my scorned inner-child searching for belonging. I looked towards my heritage to find resilience and to make sense of my identity, drawing on the deep well of childhood imagination. I heard stories of giants erecting ancient temples and gallant knights guarding the Maltese who came before me, and manifested these past fantasies as a castle to shield my tender former self.
This sculpture is whimsical in form, with organic shapes and softened edges. Bridges between tall towers with lookouts, a winding spiral, and cascading staircases evoke a sense of play. My spirit feels safe enough to explore among these shapes.
However...
... after its transformation in the kiln, I noticed that my connection to the work had changed. What felt playful and fun in form, now feels dangerous. The black spots mar the white surface, and camouflage the windows and doors. Something about the unobvious holes feels deeply unsettling, like a type of trypophobia.
This sense of dread is amplified by the sculpture's lack of foundation. Imagining my spirit curled up in that home feels vulnerable and cold against the surface it rests on: a plinth, a shelf. Upon reflection, this is accurate to my current experience. After moving to Melbourne and finding community, I thought my childhood wounds had resolved. However, being separated from the land of my culture, I find myself yearning still. This displacement is amplified further by Malta’s history of colonisation. Having been taken over by several forces (including the Knight's of St. John), that changed and added to the cultural zeitgeist with every domination, the modern Maltese identity is inherently confused, and I am further so, having only my family to connect me to the surviving history.
What started as a haven for my spirit, ends as a monument to grief. The Church of the Pit in Your Stomach honours my continued vulnerability, caused by my deep anger at the cultural disconnection I face as a result of Malta’s history of colonisation and my family's background of immigration and assimilation.