Cacti is a work that allows me to imagine the version of myself I wish I had been after heartbreak, the version that would have simply turned around, raised a middle finger, and walked away. The cacti are intentionally fake, creating an illusion of something alive and rooted when, in fact, much of what we see is constructed. The only real elements are the cactus thorns and the dirt, grounding the work in something physical and true. This tension between what is real and what is fabricated reflects the emotional illusions I carried within the relationship and the fantasy of how I wish I could have responded to betrayal. The gesture of the cacti becomes humorous, confrontational, and unapologetic. A small act of rebellion that I can now give myself through the work.

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At the same time, the cacti become a metaphor for survival. Cacti do not need constant watering or care to survive; they are capable of enduring harsh conditions and sustaining themselves with very little. I see myself in that resilience. After heartbreak, I learned how to stand on my own, even when I felt like I had been stripped of something I once depended on. The fabricated cacti represent the illusion, while the real thorns and dirt represent what is true: pain, resilience, and the ability to survive. Cacti becomes both fantasy and self-portrait, a playful way of imagining what I wish I had said or done, while acknowledging that I, like the cactus, am still here, rooted, and capable of surviving on my own.