a fired forest

The alchemy

The glass oven is a place where matter is broken down and remade. When I heat the plants in the oven I am offering them to the fire. It transforms them, leaving behind their imprints. The plants I use are not just materials; they are witnesses. Each leaf, each stem, carries the memory of the land - its seasons, its struggles, its slow adaptation to a warming world. The Veluwe, like many ecosystems, is changing. The fires that once came rarely, now come often.
Rising temperatures and droughts have turned forests into tinderboxes, where landscapes catch fire with terrifying ease. Fire, once a natural force of renewal, now rages with unnatural frequency, leaving behind charred trunks and ash.
And yet, life persists. The ash nourishes the soil. The seeds wait. The forest regrows.

Transformation

Now you stand before a wall of glass, each panel a window into a destructed world. The plants, once alive, now exist in a liminal space: neither fully destroyed nor preserved, but suspended in the aftermath of a catastrophe.
The beauty of these pieces should not distract from their message: that we are living in a time of transition, where the old ways of existing are no longer sustainable. The fires are coming, and they will leave their mark. But what comes after is up to us.
When you stand before these pieces, I hope you see a forest burning. I hope you see the ash settling. And most of all, I hope you see the seeds waiting beneath the surface, ready to grow when the fire has passed. And if we look closely, the plants may teach us how to live in the heat of change.