Whispers of Wild Silence

I grew up surrounded by two things: the quiet resilience of nature, and the humble presence of cork—yes, cork. The stuff used to seal bottles or line boards. But to me, cork was more than utilitarian. It was bark—skin of a tree that grew slowly, patiently, shedding its outer layers as offerings to the world. That idea of giving, of transforming, became the heart of this series.
"Whispers of Wild Silence" began as a whisper itself—just a memory of the long-legged grace of a giraffe I once saw through a dusty zoo window, a frog perched like a guardian on a mossy stone, and the endless shimmer of koi in a garden pond. These creatures don’t roar or demand. They exist, quietly, beautifully—like cork itself.
Each piece in the series uses reclaimed cork—some from old wine bottles shared over stories, some from forgotten coasters and scraps. I carve into the surface, letting its texture mimic savannah dust, wet jungle stone, or rippling water. The giraffes stretch across cracked cork panels, their necks elongated beyond the canvas frame, suggesting a world beyond what we can see. Frogs are tucked into folds of cork like secrets waiting to be found. Fish dart through suspended strips, as if swimming through layers of bark and breath.
Cork breathes. It absorbs, expands, remembers pressure. In that way, it felt like the perfect medium to express these creatures—resilient, adaptive, and intimately woven into the living rhythm of the earth.
This series is not loud. It's meant to be touched, to be leaned into, to feel the quiet. It’s about honoring the soft strength of nature, and reminding us that not all power is heard—it is often felt, beneath our fingers, beneath our feet.