Last month, I was part of an art exhibit. I wrote a short bio for my piece, but have had nowhere to publish it, so it’ll be here below.
Background
A bit of background: a group of about ~40 of us from Cru Cornell went to LA to help with cleanup after the tragic Palisades fire back in early april for our spring break. This was such a reflective and life-changing experience, contrasting the destruction of what were people’s homes and lives with the beautiful ocean. When I was approached by my friend Christina about being part of an art exhibit, I immediately replied with, “When is it?”
Below (writing and photos) are part of my work that I did for this exhibit, titled “What Remains — Traces of Fire, Memory and Renewal.”
My piece, titled “Though the Mountains Fall Into the Sea (Psalms 46:2)”
This installation emerged from my journey with Cru and Samaritan’s Purse to the scorched neighborhoods of the Palisades, where wildfires reduced homes, futures, and dreams to ash. Each transparent panel holds a fragment of that landscape, a visual testimony to both devastation and divine presence.
Like memory itself, these images overlap and intersect, creating new narratives as viewers move through the space, and in their layering, there is a quiet reminder that though everyone has had unique experiences, no one experienced these moments in isolation. The undulating arrangement echoes both destruction and cleansing, suggesting the nature of loss and renewal that Isaiah speaks to:
“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland”
- Isaiah 43:18-19
No one carries memory alone; it gathers in the space between us, shaping and reshaping us as we move together toward what comes next.
The juxtaposition of charred earth against glimpses of the Pacific serves as a meditation on permanence and impermanence. While the blackened foundations speak to immediate loss, the enduring blue of the sea and sky remind us that some things remain constant—like the refuge and strength we find in our faith. Light passes through even the darkest images, transforming documentation into something more transcendent. We see in this the gospel: that out of devastation, restoration is possible; that light does not simply return but breaks through; and that we are never abandoned in our suffering. Christ entered into our brokenness and died for us, bearing the weight of loss and sin so that hope could take root even in the ashes. Because of Him, we are invited to live for something higher than ourselves, to know a peace that does not waver with circumstance, steady and enduring as the sea and the sky itself.
“Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea”
- Psalms 46:2
As witness and prayer, this work honors everything lost while reminding us that even in the midst of ashes, new, fuller, better, everlasting things can spring forth.
More links
Cornell Daily Sun featured us? On ‘What Remains — Traces of Fire, Memory and Renewal’
AAP exhibit site: Group Exhibition: What Remains — Traces of Fire, Memory, and Renewal