The sculpted figure stands as a fragmented, piece-by-piece assembly, with more than life-size feet that contrast sharply with the slimmer upper body. It goes against viewers' expectation of a live human form, suggesting more of a skeletal resemblance. Modeled after a toy figure, the piece initially evokes nostalgia and familiarity, but these quickly give way to discomfort: toys, mass-produced and perfectly shiny, aren't shown here. Instead, the handcrafted and imperfect nature of each part breaks away from the perfect image of a toy.
The distortion of the body and extreme difference in size from the grounded feet to the small head emphasize imbalance. Almost skeleton-like, the heavy contour and molded lines make the top limbs look like bones, while the torso resembles one of a stick figure as it is so slim and straight. The top looks stretched and fragile, in comparison to the strong base of the feet. The large triangular feet with rounded edges ground the figure while the pointed tips disrupt the toy-like form. Looking at the bottom, one might conclude that the figure is almost permanently adhered to the base, while the top feels as though one gust of wind could unsettle it. Its parts are not connected cleanly due to the gaps in between and the edges, yet they lack the mobility of a Barbie's or an action figure's limbs.
Analyzing the glazing technique, the blue hue in tandem with the bubble-like pattern resembles foam on ocean waves. Yet, the slight gray tint and large circle openings in how the glaze was fired and laid imports a coldness like the bones of a real skeleton. A toy is typically brightly colored, smooth, glistening plastic, while this piece appears uneven, speckled, and rough. Rather than looking newly made and display ready, the figure seems as if it emerged from the dead. The sculpture resists familiarity: a form usually associated with play is transformed into a sense of unsettledness, fragility, and imbalance, distorting the image of the human figure.
