Sculpture

Cherry’s sculptures challenge traditional notions of perfection, inviting viewers to embrace an alternative aesthetic—one that finds beauty in age, decline, and the marks of endurance. Her work is a deeply personal journey, yet it calls on others to reconsider how society defines and perceives beauty.

By working with weathered, scarred, and discarded materials, Cherry seeks out the intrinsic elegance within what is often overlooked or cast aside. Rusted metal, torn fabric, fractured wood—these elements hold stories etched into their very surfaces. In revealing their textures and histories, she mirrors her own experiences of fragility, resilience, and transformation.

Her art offers a quiet but insistent invitation: to see grace in the broken, worth in the weathered, and to shift our cultural gaze toward a more inclusive and compassionate understanding of beauty.

"My current work represents the decline of my physical health, coming to terms with a body that is weak and deteriorating and my desire to move and be physically dependant. It is a constant dichotomy between a spirit wanting to fly and a physical body that feels broken, immobile and often painful to move." 

I began working on these large chicken wire, sculptures horizontally, on a long white table in my studio. The first figure emerged from memory—a sketch of my partner who died in 2023. A tall figure, poised in admiration and quiet envy, I wanted to capture the grace of his balanced, symmetrical walk. Light-footed, like a stealth aircraft gliding through air.

In contrast, I reflected on my own body—seated in my motorized wheelchair, supported by my walking aid. My legs, heavy as lead, rusted like iron, refused to lift. That first sculpture, once complete, was wrapped in white paper and placed in storage. As it lay on the table, I was struck by the image of a body prepared for departure. A place I could not follow."

Other smaller sculptures followed, inspired by the slow, quiet, synchronized movements of bodies responding to the voice of my Tai Chi instructor. I imagined these movements—gentle, pleading, willing my body to take up postures it stubbornly refused.