The Memory Makers
This work isn’t about history.
It’s about what survives despite it.
Not archives, but muscle.
Not museums, but lullabies sung under siege.
Not victory, but fingernails carving meaning into clay.
⠀
Here, memory glitches like a ghost in the machine.
Zizek might call it “the Real.”
We call it бабусина пам’ять — grandmother memory.
The kind that flinches at a smell, knows things you never learned.
⠀
Trypillian symbols, 5,000 years old, flicker through the paint.
Not as folklore. As resistance.
⠀
Lines tremble like they remember.
The whole thing nearly collapses.
But it holds.
Just like we do.
⠀
This belongs to Where Order Trembles,
a series about what remains
when everything else falls apart.
⠀
The answer is memory.
Passed down in scars, recipes, rituals.
Held by women who remembered
even when forgetting was safer.
36×36 in
Acrylic on stretched canvas, lacquer.
2025
The artwork comes with a Certificate of Authenticity.
This work isn’t about history.
It’s about what survives despite it.
Not archives, but muscle.
Not museums, but lullabies sung under siege.
Not victory, but fingernails carving meaning into clay.
⠀
Here, memory glitches like a ghost in the machine.
Zizek might call it “the Real.”
We call it бабусина пам’ять — grandmother memory.
The kind that flinches at a smell, knows things you never learned.
⠀
Trypillian symbols, 5,000 years old, flicker through the paint.
Not as folklore. As resistance.
⠀
Lines tremble like they remember.
The whole thing nearly collapses.
But it holds.
Just like we do.
⠀
This belongs to Where Order Trembles,
a series about what remains
when everything else falls apart.
⠀
The answer is memory.
Passed down in scars, recipes, rituals.
Held by women who remembered
even when forgetting was safer.
36×36 in
Acrylic on stretched canvas, lacquer.
2025
The artwork comes with a Certificate of Authenticity.
This work isn’t about history.
It’s about what survives despite it.
Not archives, but muscle.
Not museums, but lullabies sung under siege.
Not victory, but fingernails carving meaning into clay.
⠀
Here, memory glitches like a ghost in the machine.
Zizek might call it “the Real.”
We call it бабусина пам’ять — grandmother memory.
The kind that flinches at a smell, knows things you never learned.
⠀
Trypillian symbols, 5,000 years old, flicker through the paint.
Not as folklore. As resistance.
⠀
Lines tremble like they remember.
The whole thing nearly collapses.
But it holds.
Just like we do.
⠀
This belongs to Where Order Trembles,
a series about what remains
when everything else falls apart.
⠀
The answer is memory.
Passed down in scars, recipes, rituals.
Held by women who remembered
even when forgetting was safer.
36×36 in
Acrylic on stretched canvas, lacquer.
2025
The artwork comes with a Certificate of Authenticity.
