An artwork was damaged on March 5th when visitors handled the piece without permission, causing it to fall and break. These visitors did not provide any means of contact before promptly leaving the gallery.​

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Intergenerational memory and storytelling are guided by dual forces: reverence and neglect. We choose to give weight to those elements of our past we feel deserve to be heard, minimizing or leaving out those elements that don't hold our interest. This casual dismissal carries subtle markers of violence. There is a sting when you are given the silent treatment, or when you have been deliberately excluded from an event. It's a hurt that softly lingers, leaving tiny cuts, which over a lifetime build to larger harms. Whom we invite into the retelling of our history matters; it reveals much about the circumstances and values of the individuals who crafted these narratives.

What forces limited certain stories in my family history? Was it active disdain and intentional erasure, or something more passive - mere disinterest? While the deliberate acts of omission inflict obvious harm, doesn't apathy wound just as deeply?

After months of dwelling on these thoughts, I was oddly surprised to feel a sense of excitement in seeing my work destroyed. It resonated with many of the themes in my exhibition. Something is fitting about its destruction at the hands of a teenager - driven by entitlement, idle curiosity… I'm not sure it matters. The act embodies a sense of "lack": lack of respect, of genuine curiosity, of forbearance, of foresight, of understanding, of empathy, of care.

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This lack is a subtle feeling. It is a kind of apathy; it isn't overtly intentional. It is passive. Like the slow erosion of memory across generations, indifference and carelessness may gradually wear away at the fabric of what we consider valuable. Just as family stories fade when left untold, artworks become vulnerable when viewers disconnect from their meaning. In this disconnection, hands desecrate something precious—perhaps to only a few, but precious nonetheless.

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Heartstrung, crafted from driftwood, cotton twine, and discarded peach pits, may not be gilded in gold, but like memories themselves, these works gain their value through ritual and ceremony. The act of creation transforms them into something worth preserving.

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After much reflection about replacing the piece with another driftwood sculpture or photographic work, I have decided to leave the broken fragments of the original piece in the exhibition. Retitled Treasured Remnants, the work reflects its transformation while acknowledging the violence it endured. It serves as both a preservation of the past and a testament to how fragmentation itself can become meaningful.