Compression Loop

Rheumatoid arthritis isn't something people can usually see, but the pain it causes can be overwhelming. There were days I limped through school, my joints aching with every step, while others looked at me in confusion. Some thought I was exaggerating, just being dramatic. But the pain is real. It strikes without warning, often intensifying during the rainy seasons, and it lingers long after the flare fades. I wanted to give form to the invisible. For me, the pain feels like dozens of rubber bands wrapped tightly around my joints, cutting off circulation, pressing into bone. When the bands come off, they leave deep marks. Those marks fade, but the tingling ache persists even after the surface looks "fine." To visualize this, I photographed the areas that hurt most, up close, wrapping them tightly in dozens of rubber bands. First, I captured the moment of visible pressure, the bands cutting into skin. Then I photographed the marks left behind after removing them. Finally, I documented the skin once those marks had faded. The sequence represents the lingering impact of pain: even when it's no longer visible, its presence is still deeply felt. The series moves from compression to release and back again, capturing a cycle of tension that returns because rheumatoid arthritis doesn't have a clear beginning or end. It recurs uninvited, like an old wound that never truly heals. This work is my way of asking others to see what I've long carried alone. To witness the pain, even if they can't feel it.