The woods have always intrigued me. I live for those dark, expansive forests with bugs dancing through the moss covered trees. Though I grew up among cities, their green spaces, however small, always drew me in. In elementary school, the small patch of trees planted in our neighborhood became an endless woodland and I was an explorer. We moved away when I was 10, but I think if I went back now I would still remember the curves of the bark, the stripes in the limestone barrier, and the Lichtenberg figures on the blackened stump from the time one of the trees got struck by lightning and almost fell on our house. 

          When I got older and could explore even further, I would spend endless hours walking through nearby woodlands. I never made it too far because I was caught up in the patterns of leaves and scales on wings of bugs or stripes in stones; the forest’s beauty in its most microscopic forms amazed me. It also gave me a rush, being alone in the woods. My imagination ran wild in those places until I was no longer alone. Every odd sound sent a rush through my body, even though I knew I shouldn’t be scared. 

          My portfolio represents my love of the forest, an ode to everything unknown. My ceramic sculptures convey a narrative, a story I wrote, about two best friends, Fig and Mazie, who are spending their summer break exploring the forest behind their houses. Each day they venture a little bit further into the woods, enchanted by the sights they see: mysterious spirits, curious creatures, caverns, and bubbling streams. At first their expeditions reveal a friendly forest but as they travel deeper and deeper it becomes harder for them to turn back, until one day, they do not return. 

          My story is an extension of myself and my interests, ideas, and experience as a queer high schooler trying to find themself. Through my pieces I explore duality, decay, nature, and friendship. I use antonyms as inspiration and as I worked, I found I liked the idea of using juxtapositions in my art; I want my pieces to draw you in by their bright colors and seemingly happy facades… until you look closer and see that things are rotting. I used bright colors and sparkles to incorporate an element of playfulness to my otherwise spooky Honor’s Art story; Fig and Mazie do not disappear when they die, instead, their bright personas remain as ghosts in the forest.