flores de mi abuela

A ceramic vase sits at the center of the painting, holding a single flower from my grandmother’s garden in Paraguay. The vase carries a human face, its eyes heavy with tears that seem to flow into the surface of the clay. The painting is in black and white, as if time has slowed to capture this quiet moment.

The flower feels alive yet distant, a small reminder of care and connection across space. The crying vase becomes a vessel for longing and attention, holding not only the flower but also the presence of someone far away. It is both object and witness, shaped by hands that remember and reach.