Lia Makkhurane

VIRTUAL TOUR

ARTIST CATALOGUE

in defence of softness

In my practice, the act of making becomes a way of processing, embodying, and reimagining what my body has endured. My wearable sculptures and safe spaces constructed from foam and fabric explore the tensions and duality between comfort and discomfort, protection, vulnerability and defence. These soft yet burdensome forms attach to the body like extensions of my inner fantasy world, manifestations of the emotions and histories I carry and a visual representation of what my defences would look like if they existed tangibly. 

This body of work emerged from my personal experience with medical dismissal and bodily uncertainty. After years of continuous bleeding, pain, and confusion surrounding my menstrual cycle, a misplaced copper IUD and a possible misdiagnosis of PCOS, I began to question not only my own body but the medical systems that refused to believe it. I was repeatedly told that nothing was wrong, that what I was feeling was “normal” or “not serious.” The constant disbelief made me mistrust my own perceptions. I'm constantly discovering new truths about my body. and I feel both relief and betrayal, relief at having an explanation, and betrayal at how long I had doubted myself because professionals dismissed my pain. 

Through my practice, I began to process this trauma materially. Sewing and working with soft fabrics became an act of care and quiet reflection. These repetitive, meditative gestures helped me re-establish a relationship with my body, on my own terms, in the comfort of my bedroom. The soft materials I use, such as blanket fleece and foam, provide a sense of safety and comfort. Yet, the forms they create, spiked, padded, ruffled, and shell-like, embody a hardness or tension. They are protective but heavy/discomforting, soft yet defensive. This duality reflects my own experience of medical care as both a site of supposed safety and real harm. The sculptures function as imagined defences against systems that failed to protect me. They ask: what if softness could shield? What if protection could be gentle? What if I could physically hold the things I've carried emotionally? By externalising these emotions, I make visible what is often unseen, the psychological and physical weight of being disbelieved in medical spaces. 

This work is happening alongside my process of healing and reckoning. As I learn more about my body, I’m also becoming more aware of how much I was never taught about protection, about boundaries, about what it means to advocate for myself. We’re often only able to recognise what boundaries or defences we need after they’ve been violated. And because women and other minority groups are so frequently denied the right to set or enforce those boundaries, we internalise the belief that our bodies are not truly ours to protect. 

Ultimately, this body of work is both personal and collective. It reflects my own healing process while acknowledging the shared experiences of women and others whose bodies have been dismissed, pathologized, or misunderstood. Through softness, repetition, and care, I transform pain into form, making tangible the invisible weight of survival and the quiet strength of continuing to move through the world despite its harshness. This project is not just a representation of my experience; it is my experience. It’s an act of processing, imagining, and reclaiming. It is the fantasy of a body that knows how to defend itself, and the reality of me learning how to do the same.