Her installations—strewn with dismembered limbs, hollowed torsos and industrial detritus—operate like archaeological sites of contemporary anxiety. Fertility is evoked not as generative promise but as precarious infrastructure; the body becomes a vessel exposed to toxic environments, mechanical violence and ecological instability. The materials—wax, resin, steel, foam—oscillate between seduction and decay, suggesting organisms caught mid-mutation or artefacts scorched by an unseen catastrophe. Ackroyd’s sculptures refuse symbolic comfort: they articulate a world in which climate crisis and bodily vulnerability are inseparable, where the future feels embryonic yet already damaged. This is not simply figuration but a forensic poetics of collapse, a vision of humanity as porous, threatened and fiercely alive within its own ruins.
