« Currant States »
In this still life series, red currants become a quiet metaphor for human relationships.
Hanging in clusters, they exist in closeness - luminous, fragile, intertwined.
A finger lifts one from the stem. To be chosen is to be desired, to be seen - but also to be separated. Intimacy begins with selection, and selection always carries risk.
A cactus spine pierces the skin. Sweetness does not prevent pain. In the same gesture that brings us closer, we are made vulnerable.The fruit, translucent and exposed, cannot defend itself.
It falls into water. Not to disappear, but to heal. Submerged, it gathers silence around its wound. Healing is not spectacle - it is an inward movement, a quiet reassembling of the self.
Then it freezes. Suspended in ice, it becomes untouchable.
What appears distant is in fact protection - a boundary formed from experience. To seal oneself is not to reject love, but to survive it.
Finally, the cluster returns - whole again, but altered. This time enclosed in transparent film, the red currants remain visible yet shielded. Protection does not erase connection; it reframes it.
Through being chosen, wounded, restored, and sealed, the fruit becomes complete in a new way - not naive, not unmarked, but aware.
To love is to risk fracture.
To grow is to learn how to remain luminous - and protected - at once.
Chosen
Wounded
Sealed
Restored
