Yasmin Watts builds from what is small, deliberate, and nearly overlooked; creases, corners and intimate thresholds. Her sculptural environments form micro-spaces: architectures of stillness that do not dominate, but receive.

Creases. Corners. Edges. Surfaces. Pauses.

These are not rooms, nor stage sets. They are folds of space; quiet geometries shaped for proximity and pause. They do not ask to be observed; they ask to be entered. To dwell. To feel one's own breath settle in the silence.

These micro-spaces emerge through layering; plaster, ash, clay, salvaged wood. Every material carries its own weathering, its own weight of memory. Walls become skins. Voids become vessels. Absence becomes atmosphere.

Figures appear in these spaces, not as declarations but as murmurs. A shoulder turned inward. A body folded, leaning; gestures shaped by tenderness, not performance. The human presence is always partial, quiet, yet deeply felt.

Figures appear. Not figures. Fragments. Echoes.
They don’t pose. They murmur.

Scale shifts between intimacy and quiet magnitude. Nothing is monumental; everything is precise. These environments are choreographed like whispers; sensitive to light, texture, proximity.

Watts builds space like one might hold a hand: not to possess, but to make room. Her micro-spaces are shaped by diasporic memory and emotional architecture. They offer places to reflect, to wait, to return.

I make space to wait. To rest. To hold. To be.

Her micro-spaces remember. They resist monumentality. They hold what has been scattered.

These aren’t spaces to pass through. They’re spaces that pause you. A sculptural practice where silence becomes structure and care takes the shape of form.

These aren’t spaces to pass through. They’re spaces that pause you.

A sculptural practice where silence becomes structure and care takes the shape of form.