Fragrance Of My Mother Land

A weathered beam is transformed into a communal lintel, from which a procession of carved faces descends like suspended witnesses—each visage distinct, yet bound in a single architectural rhythm. The textured patinas of ochre, ash-white, deep charcoal, and vivid turquoise read as emotional climates, moving from silence and erosion to a startling clarity of presence. Composed as both frieze and gathering, the work suggests identity as something carried—hung between weight and display—where the rough grain of the wood becomes a record of time, labor, and shared memory.