Offerings is a quiet invocation—an installation shaped by transformation, by the shimmer of the ephemeral, by the old magic that lingers where land and story meet. It gathers the ancient practice of giving thanks to the earth: a gesture shared by local Indigenous peoples and by my Celtic and Scottish ancestors, who left gifts in places where the world feels thin and alive: a twisted branch, a still pool, the edge of moving water.
In a field of grass, six wax vessels rise on wooden posts like small beacons. Cast from molten wax, they hold the vulnerability of skin, the fleetingness of a moment about to pass. Their forms are translucent, almost breath-like—objects that hold light as much as they hold space. Their surfaces cradle offerings— bark, seeds, pods, blossoms. Simple materials. Modest gifts symbolic of the earth’s generosity and the delicate balance that supports all life.
Yet within their fragility lies a quiet insistence on resilience. These luminous forms speak of endurance, of growth coaxed from inhospitable ground, of humour and humility carried like talismans through difficult terrain
Offerings invites viewers into a space of reflection, asking how we honour the land that holds us, and how we might move with greater tenderness through a world growing ever more fragile.