“I’m fine.”
Perhaps one of the most common lies we tell each other. A seemingly innocent response, repeated almost automatically, regardless of what is actually happening in our lives. We say it when we are exhausted, overwhelmed, anxious, or falling apart. Sometimes because we don’t want to explain. Sometimes because we don’t know how. And sometimes because the question itself doesn’t seem to expect an honest answer.

*I’m fine* consists of two monumental metal gates. The first carries the familiar declaration, transforming an everyday phrase into a physical statement. The second, deformed and burdened with stones, reveals what the words attempt to conceal. The weight of unspoken emotions becomes tangible, pushing against a structure that appears strong but is not immune to pressure. The gates function as symbolic thresholds between the internal and external worlds, between what we experience and what we allow others to see. Their industrial materiality contrasts with the emotional vulnerability at the centre of the work. *I’m fine* reflects on the quiet violence of pretending that everything is all right, even when it isn’t.