Does language enable or stifle self-expression? For Eastwood, a Welsh-speaker raised in an Anglophone household, both propositions are true. His soundscapes, visual patterns, and tactile imprints grapple with a language whose meaning remains elusive.
 

Sound, a human voice, a mouth is moving to shape words. But this language was never heard before, though it may be familiar to some. There is even a translation: as though subtitles could contain it.   
 

Tongues quiver and stretch, searching. Some move slug-like past each other; some, brittle, crumble to dust.


Words reduced to shapes, stone inscriptions – petrified speech – rubbed onto paper. This language has outlived its purpose of communication, but Eastwood weaves new stories from it.