This is a map.

These pieces came through me the way all of my work does, in collaboration with spirit, and in response to something asking to be made visible.

The feathers carry transmission. The ferns hold ancient memory… they existed long before the flowers, far longer than most of what surrounds us now. The flowers asked me to make them. They remind us how to open and stretch toward the light. Snakes move the energy that has been waiting to rise. The knife protects us and cuts through what no longer belongs. The moon marks the cycles that govern everything, whether we are paying attention or not. An altar is a place to return to. A physical orienting toward what we love, our inner coordinates, what we have lost, and what we don't want to forget. We nourish it with light and with presence. It remembers for us on the days we cannot.

I did not plan this. I listened.

Each piece is made by hand from black clay, fragile by intention, because what is sacred asks to be approached with care. They are altar objects, ceremonial tools, collaborations with the characters that move through my work and my life.

To bring one home is to bring that medicine with you.

These are not decorations. They are companions.