half Moon, 2025, cowhide, wood, motor, velvet, American domestic stained glass window, artist’s urine, condensation

A half-moon canopy wrapped in black velvet, constructed from an animal skin drum, hovers above. Equipped with a mechanical device, it beats automatically at intervals, sending low, resonant vibrations through the space. Below it hangs a common arched stained glass window, a familiar symbol of domestic comfort and sanctity in American homes. For this work, I briefly introduced my warm urine between the double panes of the glass before draining it. The resulting condensation slowly evaporates under the gallery lights throughout the exhibition, gradually disappearing from view. The title Half Moon reflects the incomplete and fragmented nature of my existence as an immigrant — perpetually partial, never fully whole. In line with the exhibition Minor Landscaping, this work makes a quiet yet intimate intervention into the architecture of belonging. By infiltrating a symbol of domestic security with my bodily trace and subtly disrupting the space with the drum’s invisible resonance, the piece contemplates the transient presence of the immigrant body: its desire to leave a mark, and the quiet erasure that inevitably follows.