Moe’s sculptures range in scale from monumental to miniature. Enormous concrete-and-steel heads and body fragments recall colossi toppled during histories both recent and distant. Like fallen monuments, they mark the fragility of power, the yielding of strength to vulnerability through conflict or calamity. What appeared immortalized suffers erasure, what seemed permanent surrenders to the forces of nature, to decay.

Moe’s looming fragments are paradoxical portraits: though free of the fixed personae and narratives of state statues, they read as everyman or -woman. Victims perhaps, they offer the poignance of finding gentleness and peace even on the faces of the dead, and in that finding mirrored our own humanity.

This personal implication intensifies in Moe’s swarm of miniature, wall-mounted portrait heads, like excavated artifacts that resurrect a mass of individuals lost in time. In contrast, her dark drawings evoke the cavities inside her vast heads, the negative space that from absence summons the void.