Picture this Inter-Naples maybe the most important game of the season, me and my dad were not missing this, so we we were not exactly thrilled to have to be participating in an art talk in that moment. And in fact, we had to be dragged away from watching the Inter match downstairs, and when I say dragged, I mean we had to wait until Dimarco put one in the back of the net before we finally got up. We were still a bit reluctant, waiting for an excuse to sneak back.

But then Zoe Williams started speaking, and something shifted. My dad wasn’t just listening—he also fully locked in and participated.

That’s the thing about her work. It doesn’t let you stay passive. You might think you know what you’re looking at, but the longer you stare, the more it shifts—and suddenly, you’re questioning everything.

A Living Room That Turned Into a Conversation with Zoe

This wasn’t a gallery, no big stage, no rows of chairs. We were just sitting in the living room, the common space of our retreat, all gathered around like it was just another evening. Some guests who were staying with us just wandered in, curious at first, but ended up staying the whole time.

That’s what made the night feel so different—it wasn’t a formal event, it was a real discussion, casual but intense, bouncing from sculpture to symbolism to completely unexpected tangents.

Flesh, Food, and the Gaze

Zoe’s work deals with bodies, femininity, and desire—but not in the way you’d expect. It’s not about glorification or simple beauty. It’s about how we look at things, how we consume them—literally and figuratively.

One piece she described really threw me. A sculpture of two breasts. Pretty straightforward, right? Except some people didn’t see breasts at all. They saw Cassata Siciliana—a traditional Sicilian dessert.

And that hit me. The same shape, but completely different meanings. Something bodily, something sexual, something nourishing—and something sweet, decorative, edible.

And that’s what Zoe does best—she takes something you think you understand and twists it, making you second-guess what you’re actually seeing.

It wasn’t just a funny observation—it was the whole point. How we view things depends on what we expect to see. One person sees fertility, another sees excess, another sees something to be devoured. Who’s right? Maybe all of them. Maybe none.

Art That Makes You Question Yourself

Zoe’s sculptures don’t just sit in a gallery waiting to be admired. They push back. They make you uncomfortable, make you second-guess your instincts. Her work plays with fetishism, power, submission, and indulgence, all at once. There’s something weirdly seductive about it—and that’s exactly what makes it unsettling.

I remember staring at one of her pieces, convinced I had figured it out—only to hear Zoe explain a completely different meaning. And just like that, my own interpretation felt flimsy, like I had missed something obvious the whole time.

That’s the thing—you don’t just look at Zoe’s work. It looks at you.

A Different Kind of Art Talk

At some point, it didn’t even feel like an ‘art talk’ anymore. Just people bouncing ideas off each other, challenging each other, laughing at how absurd some of the interpretations were—until they weren’t absurd at all.

And my dad? The guy who would have much rather been watching Lautaro score a second goal? He walked away saying it was one of the most interesting discussions he’d been part of.

That’s the kind of artist Zoe is. She doesn’t just create things to be looked at—she creates conversations that stick with you long after you’ve left the room

P.S: For more info on Zoe you can check out this link: https://zoewilliamsonline.co.uk/