What cools was once radiant.
What dulls was once fire.
Blue holds black,
black holds light —
each fleck a small remembrance of heat.
The surface remembers touch:
hands, mornings, the soft clink of being known.
Enamel becomes skin,
iron becomes time.
Every mark, a trace of endurance —
the way love leaves metal changed.
Nothing burns forever.
But some things keep the warmth.
Collector Notes:
What Remains Warm transforms the celestial into the domestic — the galaxy reimagined as the speckled enamel of old cast-iron cookware. Layered in acrylic and oil, the surface fuses blue, black, and white into a field of quiet combustion, recalling both starfields and kitchen memory. The composition bridges the cosmic and the familiar, suggesting endurance is a form of beauty. Each fleck of paint, like heat-tempered metal, speaks of time, touch, and the quiet persistence of use. What was once functional becomes devotional, a portrait of what endures when the flame has gone out.
What cools was once radiant.
What dulls was once fire.
Blue holds black,
black holds light —
each fleck a small remembrance of heat.
The surface remembers touch:
hands, mornings, the soft clink of being known.
Enamel becomes skin,
iron becomes time.
Every mark, a trace of endurance —
the way love leaves metal changed.
Nothing burns forever.
But some things keep the warmth.
Collector Notes:
What Remains Warm transforms the celestial into the domestic — the galaxy reimagined as the speckled enamel of old cast-iron cookware. Layered in acrylic and oil, the surface fuses blue, black, and white into a field of quiet combustion, recalling both starfields and kitchen memory. The composition bridges the cosmic and the familiar, suggesting endurance is a form of beauty. Each fleck of paint, like heat-tempered metal, speaks of time, touch, and the quiet persistence of use. What was once functional becomes devotional, a portrait of what endures when the flame has gone out.