Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Size 18 × 22
Watercolour Mounted on Cradled Panel with Floater Frame, 2025
If you’ve never heard of Silfra, it’s one of the only places in the world where you can dive directly between two drifting tectonic plates - the North American and Eurasian plates - slowly drifting apart year by year. The water precipitated in the era of the Vikings and is now melted glacial ice over a thousand years old, filtered through volcanic rock to create the clearest water in the world, with visibility reaching up to 100 metres.
It’s a surreal experience - floating weightlessly through narrow rocky corridors - suspended in waters so pure you can drink them straight from your regulator - layered in thick drysuits and heavy weights against the near-freezing temperatures, with the coldness somehow sharpening your senses.
There’s a deep vulnerability when you're suspended between two shifting continents, completely immersed underwater - caught in the tension of what is pulling apart - and yet upheld by something invisible and strong.
That’s how life can feel sometimes too. Caught between. Weighted. Submerged. But also carried.
In many ways, that's the journey I seek to walk with others - stepping (and sometimes stumbling) deeper into the trenches of life. Not because I love the darkness, but because I’ve seen real hope and healing break into the deepest cracks. I know there’s restoration even in the most "insurmountable" places.
And so, even underwater, even where the earth is split, I will still hope. 🤍
Size 18 × 22
Watercolour Mounted on Cradled Panel with Floater Frame, 2025
If you’ve never heard of Silfra, it’s one of the only places in the world where you can dive directly between two drifting tectonic plates - the North American and Eurasian plates - slowly drifting apart year by year. The water precipitated in the era of the Vikings and is now melted glacial ice over a thousand years old, filtered through volcanic rock to create the clearest water in the world, with visibility reaching up to 100 metres.
It’s a surreal experience - floating weightlessly through narrow rocky corridors - suspended in waters so pure you can drink them straight from your regulator - layered in thick drysuits and heavy weights against the near-freezing temperatures, with the coldness somehow sharpening your senses.
There’s a deep vulnerability when you're suspended between two shifting continents, completely immersed underwater - caught in the tension of what is pulling apart - and yet upheld by something invisible and strong.
That’s how life can feel sometimes too. Caught between. Weighted. Submerged. But also carried.
In many ways, that's the journey I seek to walk with others - stepping (and sometimes stumbling) deeper into the trenches of life. Not because I love the darkness, but because I’ve seen real hope and healing break into the deepest cracks. I know there’s restoration even in the most "insurmountable" places.
And so, even underwater, even where the earth is split, I will still hope. 🤍