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Where's the frame
February 18, 2025 12:00 PM
GMT
Adriana Wynne’s sculptural practice delves into the thresholds between internal and external bodily realms, translating visceral sensations into tangible forms. Working across sculpture, installation, and painting, she reimagines the body as both fragmented and fluid, challenging conventional anatomical perceptions. Through materiality, scale, and abstraction, Wynne engages with the emotional and psychological dimensions of physicality, particularly discomfort, detachment, and transformation. A graduate of the Royal College of Art (2023) and Parsons School of Design (2016–2020), Wynne’s work is deeply informed by her experiences of bodily sensation, often isolating and reconstructing specific elements, folds of skin, internal structures, or fleeting feelings of tension. Whether through delicate hand-blown glass, malleable latex, or kinetic movement, her sculptures evoke the paradox of a body that is at once present and elusive. wtf? had the pleasure to speak to the artist to discuss her process, the significance of discomfort in her work, and how material and form shape her exploration of the body as an emotional and ever-shifting entity.
Your work explores the relationship between internal and external realms of the body. How do you decide which bodily sensations or emotions to represent visually, and why are uncomfortable sensations particularly significant in your practice?
I focus on sensations that feel strong in my body but don’t have a clear visual form. For example, I associate nervousness with the knotting of my stomach, which I’ve represented through kinetic sculpture. I tend to choose sensations I can easily picture—like the heat of blushing, which I link to the color pink—translating internal feelings into something physical and seen.
In Contained Container, a twisting rubber tube mirrors internal tension, while Tubes, powered by a motor, transform a private bodily function into something large and public. By playing with scale, texture, and material, I explore how our bodies exist both physically and emotionally, shaped by internal and external forces.
Uncomfortable sensations are central to my practice—they help me process and normalize feelings that might otherwise be overwhelming. Externalizing them makes them more familiar and manageable. Rosy Cheeks, made from fragile, hand-blown glass, captures the tension between beauty and discomfort, making hidden emotions visible. Through material and form, I invite people to rethink how we experience and share the sensations of our bodies.
You mention viewing the body as both tangible and intangible. How does this dual perception inform your choice of materials, and how do you feel materials like flesh and other organic forms contribute to this exploration?
I break the body down into fragments to explore its physical, emotional, and psychological states. Rather than seeing it as a fixed form, I view it as something constantly shifting, shaped by perception and experience.
I choose materials that feel like extensions of the body—wax for fat, latex for skin, metal for bone—so they don’t just resemble body parts but evoke their texture and sensation. These materials activate a sense of familiarity and discomfort, making the body feel both present and abstract. In Collapsed, for example, peeling layers and protruding forms create a feeling of disembodiment, as if the body is simultaneously falling apart and holding itself together.
Scale also plays a key role. While some artists depict the human figure at life-size or larger, my sculptures tend to be smaller, almost childlike. This exaggerates the focus on isolated body parts—organs, internal structures—drawing attention to what is usually unseen or overlooked. By deconstructing and reshaping the body, I explore its vulnerability, resilience, and fluid nature, blurring the boundary between physical form and emotional experience.
The deconstruction and reassembly of the body is a central theme in your work. Can you walk us through your process of translating fragmented body parts into physical sculptures? How do you decide on the scale and form of each piece?
I see the body as something that can be taken apart and reassembled—constantly shifting, never fixed. My process starts by breaking it down into fragments that carry emotional weight, like folds of skin or internal organs. I then put these pieces back together in ways that feel both familiar and distorted, using texture, scale, and material to create a sense of tension. Scale is a big part of this exploration. I often work in the in-between—where something feels almost right but slightly off. When focusing on individual body parts, I scale them up just enough to feel uncanny but not exaggerated. But when I depict the body as a whole, it tends to shrink, sometimes taking on a childlike scale. This isn’t always intentional—it’s something I notice in hindsight, reflecting how I lean into intuition and the subconscious when I create. My process is playful and instinctive, almost like piecing together a puzzle, shifting and adjusting until everything clicks into place.
How has your experience in design and collaboration influenced your artistic practice and approach to sculpture?
My background is primarily in fine art, but my time as the Lead Designer at aepstudios was instrumental in shaping my approach to design and sculpture. In this role, I was employed to exclusively design and fabricate work for the studio, which provided me with invaluable resources and support to excel in my creative process. aepstudios was a fantastic environment that encouraged experimentation, allowing me to refine my ability to balance conceptual ideas with material innovation while seamlessly merging aesthetics with function.
I came to see design as an extension of my sculptural practice—one rooted in functionality yet still deeply tied to artistic expression. From concept to final fabrication, I focused on creating unique, one-of-a-kind, handmade pieces that embodied both craftsmanship and individuality. This experience has profoundly influenced my personal work, pushing me to think critically about how materials interact with space and how sculptural forms can exist both as art objects and as functional elements.
Collaboration played a key role in my growth during this time. Working closely with fabricators taught me how to adapt and refine designs to ensure they were not only visually compelling but also structurally sound and safe for everyday use. This process expanded my ability to translate bold, artistic concepts into practical, livable works. Now, I approach both sculpture and design with a holistic mindset, seeing them as interconnected disciplines that inform and strengthen one another.
You mention reimagining the inner depths of the body based on personal experiences. Can you discuss any specific experiences or emotions that have been particularly formative in the development of your work?
My work is deeply personal, often drawing from moments of physical or emotional intensity. For example, in my paintings, I don’t focus on anatomical accuracy but instead embrace fluid, ever-changing forms that reflect the instability of emotional states.
In this way, my work reimagines the body’s interior, not through its physical structure, but through the emotional experiences and memories that shape it. I challenge traditional representations of the body by translating its inner landscape into forms driven by feeling. The use of pinks and fleshy tones evokes warmth, sensitivity, and how emotions manifest physically—whether through heat, pressure, or pulsations beneath the skin.
Your work focuses on bodily sensations as emotional responses. How do you feel the viewer's emotional engagement with your work changes once they reflect on their own relationship with their physical selves?
When viewers first engage with my work, they may notice the visual aspects, but their emotional connection deepens as they reflect on their own physical experience. I aim to shift their relationship with the piece from purely visual to somatic, creating an internal experience. Whether or not the viewer resonates personally, the work invites a visceral response that goes beyond surface-level observation.
By subtly guiding the viewer to reflect on their own bodily rhythms—like breathing, tension, or release—I externalize internal experiences. This prompts them to connect emotionally with their own bodily sensations, such as how they process emotions, hold tension, or feel vulnerability. The goal is for viewers to see the body as something dynamic, constantly shaped by memory, feeling, and transformation, much like the pieces I create.
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You can follow Adriana Wynne on instagram.