About the Work

Aquatint etching and relief
2 plates
Hahnemühle paper, 300 g

Cinnamon Bun Glasses is a work shaped in a state of loss, and yet insists on creating. It emerged during a time of grief, after the passing of a beloved dog. In the midst of powerlessness, baking, all of a sudden, became a space to breathe. There was something in the transformation, of sugar, flour, warmth, that offered comfort. And from that space, shapes began to appear: creamy, swirled, as if the body itself started sketching pastries in the air.

Absurd and tender at once, a fantasy so seemingly trivial it almost defies the weight of sorrow. In the print, the glasses are slightly raised from the paper, like small, wearable objects. There is a childlike wish in them, to see the world through something sweet, when life itself is anything but. This is also where I believe the piece carries its quiet protest.

Not loud. Not political in the conventional sense. But still, an act: to choose something as “meaningless” as cinnamon buns to give form to grief, is to refuse to let the pain harden. Here, sorrow is allowed to be soft, disguised, perhaps even silly, but still real. Imagination becomes a survival instinct. A resistance to having the feeling reduced to a clean narrative or logic.

In Cinnamon Bun Glasses, grief moves through the body, into the image. Image-making becomes a physical path forward, not away from the feeling, but with it. The glasses appear as messengers from an inner state, unconditional forms that simply needed to exist. They are both nothing, and everything. A protest that tastes sweet.