#artisanjournal

Pink isn’t fragile—it’s devoted. A color that says: I’m here, I’m listening, I will not forget you. I think about that when I choose backgrounds and borders, how softness can become a standard we rally around. Awareness is a practice more than a post; it’s checking in, learning more, lighting the room so we can see each other clearly.

At the end of each pour, I hold the piece up to the window just to see how it catches light. That’s the moment I remember why I started — to create something that reflects care back into the world.

The glow we share matters more than the one we keep. That’s why each lotus feels like a quiet offering — awareness made visible, courage made warm.

Every handmade thing carries a heartbeat. You can’t see it, but it’s there — in the tiny imperfections, the cured edges, the way light bends unevenly. I used to chase perfect; now I chase presence. The kind that feels like a breath left behind.

These lotus pieces were never meant to be flawless — they were meant to be felt. Each one, a quiet heartbeat in color.

Color has always been my language — a way to say what words can’t. Red feels like bravery. Yellow hums with joy. Blue whispers calm. When I’m pouring resin, I’m not just mixing pigment — I’m remembering. The faces, the stories, the tiny acts of courage that shape each shade.

I think that’s why awareness feels sacred to me. It’s not about pink ribbons or hashtags — it’s about holding space for memory in color and light.

People sometimes treat pink like it’s delicate — but it isn’t. It’s the color of rebellion disguised as softness. When I pour pink into resin, I think of every survivor who smiled through recovery, every loved one who stood beside them.