The surface of Skeleton is cracked and marked by fire and chemistry, as if it were an archaeological relic, a remnant of a bygone era. Its matte, blackened texture, interwoven with crackled patterns, evokes ashes and erosion—a tangible memory of burning and transformation. The dark color palette further enhances its connection to the charred remains of something once vibrant, reduced to its elemental core. The piece does not merely depict a skeleton —it embodies its very nature.

Yet, despite its aged, weathered appearance, Skeleton is not fragile. It is strong, just like the bones it references. What is left behind after the fleeting vitality of life is not weakness, but resilience. The spine-like protrusion on the lid seems to push upward, defying gravity, as if reaching for something beyond itself. It is a reminder that even in decay, there is movement, an echo of past energy, a trace of something that refuses to be forgotten.

The piece raises profound questions about the durability of matter and the inevitable decay of all living things. What remains when the temporary fades away? When flesh, thought, and memory dissolve, what is left to tell the story of existence? Skeleton offers an answer: stripped of excess, the essence endures— as strong and untouchable as ceramics itself. It invites contemplation on the relationship between permanence and ephemerality, urging us to see the beauty in what persists and to find meaning in the remnants of what once was.

2025

Ceramics, glaze, wood ash, gold luster 

Size: D25, H25, W28 (with lid)

Soundtrack: Bones-Low Roar, Jófriõur Ákadóttir

Skeleton – The Spine of Time

The ceramic object Skeleton embodies the essence of transience and timeless presence. Its name refers to the rugged, spine-like structure rising from the lid— a solidified echo of something organic, something that once lived and now leaves only its essence behind. The spine is both a foundation and a remnant, a symbol of strength, endurance, and vulnerability. It carries the weight of life, yet, in death, it becomes a testament to what has withstood the test of time.

A skeleton is the last tangible proof of a body, an architecture of bones that outlives the decay of flesh. Where flesh disappears, the skeleton remains—a silent reminder of what once was. Bones tell stories long after the body has turned to dust. They hold memories, imprinted with time’s slow erosion, whispering of movement, existence, and the inevitable passage into stillness. In the same way, ceramics resist impermanence. While wood decays and metal rusts, fired clay endures, much like fossils and bones defy time itself.