Second Self 1

Against a scorched, earthen field, a monumental shadow of a vessel looms like an archetype—part domestic object, part totem—its handles stretching outward in a quiet threat of embrace. Centered before it, the smaller urn glows with worn golds and herbaceous greens, its ornamental rhythm reading as a fragile lineage of craft and ceremony held up to the weight of inherited expectation. The tension between the crisp, tangible object and its engulfing silhouette turns scale into psychology: what we can name is dwarfed by what follows us. In this charged stillness, the work meditates on memory’s double nature—both sheltering and consuming—where tradition becomes both pedestal and eclipse.