STEEL CIRCLE Metal Panel

The Steel Circle began as an exploration of Damascus-inspired patterns, but became something much deeper — a mirror in every sense.

Originally, I planned to paint the design onto an acrylic disk. I had the disk cut and resized twice, but each time it felt insubstantial, temporary. Acrylic didn’t hold the permanence or presence I needed. I wanted to experiment with different mediums, layers, and textures, but also needed something that would endure.

That’s when I decided to translate her into a laser-cut steel panel, mounted over a mirror. The steel would give her permanence; the mirror would add depth, layers, and a more literal reflection — a dialogue between object and viewer. I dropped the mirror off to the fabricator, and minutes later, after taking a wrong turn, I stumbled upon the exact same mirror, lying there as if waiting for me. It felt like a point of convergence, a quiet confirmation that I was on the right path.

Each time I redrew the pattern, the lines became smoother, more refined, more “perfect.” But with every pass, I lost the raw, unpredictable texture of the Damascus pattern that had inspired it. My quest for perfection was sanding away its soul — and in that, I saw myself. It mirrored a pattern I’ve been trying to break: the belief that perfection is the destination. In chasing it, I was erasing the very thing that made it true.

The Steel Circle brought me back to the beginning, literally and metaphorically. It reminded me that perfection can sterilise; that the magic is in the tension between precision and imperfection. That the human edge — the rawness — is what gives a piece its life.

As the last work created for the Skin to Steel exhibition, it holds a different kind of gravity. It’s both an endpoint and a return, a self-portrait in metal that loops back on itself. It’s about control and release, permanence and reflection, steel and story. In its final form, the Steel Circle stands not just as an artwork, but as a lesson — to let the lines breathe, to leave room for rawness, and to remember that the most important journeys often bring us full circle.