Gallery Collection 73 - ‘Today’s Capacity’

‘Today’s Capacity’ moves into 3D. Nine small vessels sit scattered across a brushed gold canvas. Each one is hand-formed, uneven, with a metallic blue rim and a wrinkled, bronze-gold center that catches light like old foil. They look like tiny bowls or craters or cells. The placement is loose, organic. No grid. No pattern forcing them into order. The surface behind them is scraped and directional, so the light shifts as you move. You want to touch them. You want to know if they are hollow, what they could hold, why some are larger and some barely dent the surface.

Through a neurodivergent lens, these are spoons. Not the cutlery kind. The capacity kind. Each vessel is a unit of energy, attention, or social battery for the day. Some days you wake up with nine. Some days you get two. The silver rims are the boundaries you build to protect what is inside. The wrinkled, uneven centers are what happens when you run out. You do not run out neatly. You crumple. The gold ground is value. Every spoon you have matters, even the dented ones. Even the ones that look empty. This piece refuses the demand to be productive or full. It just shows what is. Capacity made physical. Fragile, metallic, and real. Some days you collect. Some days you spend. The point is that you get to see it, count it, and stop apologising for the number.