Every sculpture I create begins with intention — a quiet moment where I think about the emotion someone may need held. Some pieces are born from grief. Some from healing. Some from the soft return of hope or the steady rebuild of strength. I carry that energy with me as I mix and tint my resin, choosing colours that feel like the emotions they’re meant to represent.

I pour in slow layers. Resin has a mind of its own — it blooms, drifts, and settles the way feelings do. Some layers move quickly. Others take their time. None of them repeat themselves. Every sculpture becomes what it needs to become, forming soft gradients, organic movement, and one-of-a-kind details that can never be recreated.

Once cured, I refine each piece by hand. I smooth edges, bring clarity to colour, and finish the surface so it feels alive. This final stage is quiet… intentional… almost meditative. It reminds me why I do this — because someone out there needs a piece that speaks to the chapter they’re walking through. A symbol. A reminder. A moment of meaning they can hold onto.