When i first set foot in the Balkans in 2019, i instantly knew i was landing on a puzzle. On one hand, the brutalism of communist era buildings and the profusion of decorated toilet seats made all seem uncanny. On the other, the hospitality and creative resourcefulness of the men and women i met sprung in me a strange familiarity.
Four years later i moved here, diving into a stained glass mosaic of unfiltered coffee, battle-scarred buildings, healing mountain herbs, and words that can be written without a single vowel.
(‘Krv’ is blood and ‘vrt’ is garden)
This collection is my honouring to the generous symbols, archetypes, and stories endemic to the eastmost of the western world.
Four years later i moved here, diving into a stained glass mosaic of unfiltered coffee, battle-scarred buildings, healing mountain herbs, and words that can be written without a single vowel.
(‘Krv’ is blood and ‘vrt’ is garden)
This collection is my honouring to the generous symbols, archetypes, and stories endemic to the eastmost of the western world.
