Mend
Part of Double Layers, a story told in sky and skin, code and memory.
Keyword: Stich
Media:
5x5 archival pigment print on 7x7 Hahnemühle German Etching paper with hand- torn edges;
Dye-sublimation print on ChromaLuxe Matte Maple panel (7x7 on 8x10)
Two birds perch on a wire. One solid, the other barely there.
The line between them could be a utility cable—or a suture.
This image contemplates repair, not return. Some things are unrepeatable. Some connections ghost away even as we try to hold them in place. The bird on the right remains. The one on the left is fading—or perhaps returning. We don’t know which. But there is still a line between them. A stitch.
This is the only etching print that speaks so directly to the idea of repair without resolution. The simplest image holds the most tension. Sometimes, mending means knowing when not to knot the thread too tight.
Visual Description: A photograph of two birds on a wire. The wires resemble loose threads or surgical sutures—holding something together, but still delicate. One bird is fully present, sharply visible. The other is ghosted, translucent, maybe fading or maybe arriving. The image sits in quiet tension: connection trying to hold, but imperfectly.
Emotional Response:
Mend holds ache and hope in equal measure. It’s about the moment just before repair—or maybe just after. The ghosted bird makes my heart pinch: is it leaving, or is it memory taking form again? There’s no certainty, only the wire between them—a symbol of communication, tension, distance, and fragile connection.
The title Mend and keyword Stich evoke both healing and injury. There’s tenderness here, but also effort. It’s a portrait of relational repair, not necessarily with another person, but with the part of yourself that kept showing up, even after damage.
The viewer feels the longing to reconcile. The wish to hold on, but with healthier thread. It’s not naive—it knows what’s been torn. And yet it tries.
Format: The etching print is neatly hand torn to 7x7 inches with a standard border—clear, intentional. It keeps the same visual language of care as the rest of the series.
This image came to me when I was wondering whether repair was possible — not just between two people, but inside myself.
In this photo, two birds perch on wires that stretch across the frame like stitches. One bird is clear and grounded. The other is translucent, a kind of ghost. They represent different versions of love, or maybe two voices within me: one that wants to stay, and one that’s already left.
I’ve often taken on the role of the mender in relationships, trying to weave things back together, even when the fabric had already torn. This image helped me understand that not all repair means return. Sometimes, “mend” means making peace with what’s frayed, choosing presence without pressure, remembering without clinging.
The wires are tensioned but quiet. They don’t pull, they hold. There’s breath in the space between the birds. That space is the whole point.
This piece isn’t about getting someone back. It’s about honoring the process of healing, stitch by careful stitch — even if the thread remains visible.