When I first started thinking about these ideas, I was interested in the performative nature of social media, in the way people consciously construct versions of themselves online. Over time, though, my understanding has shifted. I don’t think we’re simply performing for other people anymore – the performance has become so embedded in everyday life that it often shapes how we experience moments in the first place. We begin to see our lives through the possibility of sharing them.

‘Made To Appear’ grew out of that realisation. The works draw on the visual language of social media because I wanted to examine the shift in which documentation no longer follows experience but increasingly becomes part of it. I’m interested in what that impulse reveals about aspiration, identity and our desire to be seen.

Additionally, I don’t approach it from a position of criticism because I’m aware I’m a part of it too. I’ve taken breaks from social media and noticed how much calmer and more present I felt, yet I’ve always found myself returning because these platforms are so deeply woven into everyday life. I’m less interested in condemning social media than in understanding why it’s become so difficult to separate performance from ordinary life, especially when I recognise those impulses in myself.

The relationship between process and subject matter is very important to me. The images reference a culture built around speed, instant consumption and immediate validation, yet they’re brought into the world through an incredibly slow and collaborative process. I like that tension because it asks the viewer to slow down and reconsider the image itself.

The work is made in close collaboration with the artisans I work with, and their contribution is always acknowledged. Their embroidery carries generations of knowledge and skill, and every piece reflects an investment of time that simply can’t be rushed. That stands in quiet contrast to the speed at which images are produced, consumed and forgotten online.

I’m interested in that shift in perception. From a distance, the works can resemble the kinds of images we scroll past every day. It’s only when you spend time with them that the labour, materiality and collective process become visible. For me, that transformation is part of the work. It asks us to think about what we value, what we overlook and what we pay attention to.

Growing up with privilege gave me access to certain environments from an early age, and later working within them professionally allowed me to observe them more closely. What interested me was how invisible many of these structures become when you’re inside them. Certain aspirations, behaviours and ideas of success start to feel natural, even though they’re socially constructed.

Because of that, it felt important to begin with a world I know intimately rather than speak about experiences from a distance. The work isn’t an external critique of privilege. It’s a reflection on systems that I also participate in, which means I’m constantly questioning my own relationship to the images I make.

Although the imagery often comes from affluent settings, the questions at the heart of the work are much broader. Desire, validation and self-presentation aren’t exclusive to privilege. They exist across different social and economic contexts, even if they take different forms. Rather than judging the people within these systems, I am interested in examining the forces that shape all of us – myself included.