I make ephemeral art, which is art that isn’t made to last.
Like grief.
Like grief.
And that’s what this piece is about.
Jūratė, goddess of the sea, emerges from black sand, her tears turning into amber.
Amber is fossilized tree resin. Healed wounds from ancient trees.
Amber is fossilized tree resin. Healed wounds from ancient trees.
This moment captures her resurfacing.
Not drowned by grief.
Not consumed by it.
But floating above it.
Not drowned by grief.
Not consumed by it.
But floating above it.
She is transmuting grief into amber.
Spinning grief into gold.
Spinning grief into gold.
It asks a question I keep returning to:
How do we take our deepest pain and turn it into a talisman that heals us?
How do we take our deepest pain and turn it into a talisman that heals us?
How do we remain open to possibility after learning the ancient truth that deep love leaves a deep imprint?
Grief is the container of that love.
However big the love, the grief will be just as vast.
However big the love, the grief will be just as vast.
It’s inescapable.
It’s the footprint.
It’s the footprint.
Our mystery to carry.
Our path to walk.
Our path to walk.
