A wall-mounted grid holds rows of small cosmetic jars.

Each compartment contains a sealed container in shades of pink and brown.

Thick, flesh-like material spills over the lids. It drips. It folds. It bulges against the neat geometry of the frame.

The work draws on the language of beauty retail. Repetition. Branding. Uniform packaging.

Yet the contents resist containment.

What should remain hidden pushes outward. What is meant to promise perfection appears unstable and excessive.

The grid suggests order and mass production. The oozing forms suggest the body.

You stand between display and discomfort.

Are these products? Are they fragments of flesh?

The piece questions how the beauty industry packages desire, standardises identity, and turns the body into a repeatable unit.

It invites you to look closely at what is contained, what leaks, and what cannot be neatly controlled.