noc·​tu·​ary (n.) a record of what passes in the night; an account kept of the events or thoughts of night.

I've always had an affinity for the night, it's when I work best, I find comfort in the absence of light and its quiet stillness, my thoughts become clearer and more pronounced then, maybe that's partially to do with our three young children filling all other moments throughout the day.

In my new body of work, I am exploring the fleetingness of time through the absence of light, causing the viewer to look deeper into the illusion of void, which in reality has much less depth than they think.

Life,

it's shorter than you think,

therein lies the beauty. 

After becoming a caretaker for my husband I realized just how fleeting time is, how the concept of tomorrow is a promise not easily kept. My garden became my refuge, a place to tend, a place to laugh, a place to cry, a place to marvel. The more uncertainty that filled our lives, in regards to how much time my husband has left, forced me to evaluate every aspect of my life and confront why I routinely scheduled joy instead of seeking joy every day, even in the mundane. 

My work in flower preservation is a lesson in growth, in learning to let go of what I should and only hold on to what I can.

My work is a continual reminder that there is always beauty to behold and joy to be found simply because it bloomed, because it lived, no matter how fleeting a time, or harsh the weather, or rocky the soil, flowers, they still bloom, and so should we.

- Krystal