Love can feel like space travel. Glamorous. Isolating. Silent.
This piece began with a simple visual: an astronaut clutching a heart like it’s the last thing left. I imagined someone who’s gone too far, maybe in search of something, maybe in escape, and now finds themselves orbiting the memory of what mattered.
I used mirror chrome for the visor to reflect the viewer, placing them inside the suit. The red heart glows with sincerity, but also absurdity. It’s a romantic gesture that feels both heroic and hopeless.
The sculpture nods to pop culture’s obsession with cosmic loneliness, from Bowie to Pixar, but grounds it in something personal. It belongs to Love, Misplaced, a series where affection is exaggerated, confused, or caught mid-drift.
This is not about outer space. It is about emotional distance, the kind we dress in silver and send away, hoping it lands somewhere soft.

And doing it with a smile anyway.d.