The Wound That Precedes Me II

 The Wound That Precedes Me II

This second piece in the series continues the exploration of the fractured self, but from a slightly different angle — both literally and conceptually. Once again built from reclaimed wood rather than carved from a single block, the sculpture feels even more unstable, as if the act of splitting the head has become more violent, more definitive.

In The Wound That Precedes Me II, the two halves of the face seem less like mirror images and more like competing versions of the same being. One side appears heavier, more damaged; the other sharper, almost defiant. Wooden sticks pierce the structure like remnants of an invisible violence or attempts at reconstruction that failed.

The work insists on the idea that our most profound wounds are not acquired along the way — they precede us. They are the condition from which identity is born. The sculpture does not offer resolution or healing. Instead, it presents the fracture as an original state: the crack through which we emerge into existence.

By leaving the wood raw, cracked, and visibly assembled, the piece becomes a physical manifestation of Deleuze’s notion of the scar as a productive surface — not a mark of lack, but a site where new meaning can be generated. What we call “I” might simply be the ongoing negotiation with a wound that was already there before we arrived.

The Wound That Precedes Me

The Wound That Precedes Me

This sculpture is not carved from a single block, but constructed by joining three distinct pieces of reclaimed wood. The act of assembling them, and then violently splitting the head vertically, became the central gesture of the work.

The Wound That Precedes Me explores the idea that our deepest fractures pre-exist us. The piece speaks of a wound that is not only the result of experience, but a condition that precedes the formation of the self. The two halves of the face — different in expression and texture — coexist in an unstable unity, as if they belonged to two parallel identities struggling within the same body.

By using reclaimed wood and assembling separate fragments, the sculpture itself becomes a metaphor: we are not born whole, but built from pieces that carry their own histories, cracks, and memories. The raw cut through the head does not seek reconciliation; it exposes the tension and the beauty of the broken.

In this sense, the work aligns with Deleuze’s notion of the event and the scar as a productive surface — a place where meaning is generated precisely because of the fracture. What we call identity may be nothing more than the continuous negotiation with a wound that was already there before we arrived.

wood

56 x 26 x 20 cmts

If this piece resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. What wounds do you carry that preceded you? Feel free to leave a comment below or send me a message.