This work constitutes a sculptural installation in the form of an angel's wing measuring 3 meters in length. Constructed from gauze onto which I have sewn seaweed, while its rigid sections are made of papier-mâché. Within the wing's interior, a mechanism creates the sensation of breathing, endowing the work with a living yet fragile presence. The wing rests upon a surgical table—where life and death meet, where we usually attempt to save what we have destroyed.

I employed gauze as a material used for wounds, while the seaweed continues to exist as living organisms that carry the memory of the sea and the threat of its ecosystem's decay. Each breath is a testimony, each movement a supplicating cry—it is the breath of an organism struggling to survive in a world that becomes increasingly hostile.

Once, angels' wings symbolized communication between heaven and earth, protection and grace. Today, this wing bears witness to our disconnection from the Divine, from nature, from our responsibility as stewards of the planet. The wing no longer flies. It is sick, trapped in a healing space that resembles a morgue more than a clinical bed.

The work challenges the viewer to take a position—either that of the indifferent visitor or the healthcare worker who attempts to heal—and reminds us that healing remains still achievable.
The sewing of the seaweed onto the gauze took approximately six months, and on some days my 96-year-old mother helped me, as shown here in these photographs of the work in progress. The installation is still in progress, so the final photographs are not yet available. Images 8 and 9 depict only the gauze with the embroidered seaweed.