Flowers have always been a sign of how quickly life can pass by. Their soft petals, bright colors, and short-lived blooms really show off how delicate yet strong nature can be. As an artist, I find this mixture fascinating. My work tries to tap into this contradiction by working with materials that contrast with the gentle feel of flowers: cement and acrylics. This juxtaposition enables me to speak of deeper tensions—impermanence and permanence, fragility and strength, vulnerability and endurance.

Flowers are delicate not only because they look pretty but also because they do not last long. A flower pops up, looks amazing for a bit, and then it's gone in a blink. That such short life really shows us how life is too, and reminds us to appreciate it more.

So in my work, I try to capture that in-transit feeling, but I still want the artwork to stay. So, I've been experimenting with cement—something that's about permanency and solidity—to make a base to house this transience of flowers, something that keeps.

Acrylic paints are highly versatile and bright in nature, so layering their colors really helps to capture the glow of petals kissed by the sun. These pigments are unyielding over time, defying the natural decay of the flowers they reproduce. In my work, I have intentionally combined acrylics and cement; the cement gives a grounded, almost sculptural base, while the acrylics bring out the ethereal quality of the flowers. Together, they form a dialogue between two worlds: one fleeting and soft, the other strong and unyielding.

What is truly interesting is the feel between these materials. Cement, coming from this industrial background, can be modulated into these cool textures and natural forms that remind one of petals flowing. It has this heavy presence that totally contrasts with how light flowers are, but it also lifts them up, giving them a kind of permanence that nature just can't match.

So, cement isn't just a mere material; it is more like a symbol of how the human spirit clings to beauty even amidst change.

Sticking the impermanent into the permanent gives us pause to really think about our relationship with time. Flowers feel like little moments that just zip by. But when I freeze them in something that lasts, I'm really pushing back against the concept of imperminance. It is not the negation of life's transience but, rather, an effort to respect and archive its beauty. In my work, cement provides a space for memories, while acrylics breathe life into the present. This contrast speaks of resilience. The flowers are fragile, but they also have the remarkable ability to thrive in sometimes very inhospitable conditions, revealing their hidden strength. In my compositions, the unyielding cement will crack and weather over time, showing its vulnerability—a fragility that, though it reflects complex resilience in nature and human life, isn't about being unbreakable; it's about thriving in the face of inevitability.

Working with permanent materials is a kind of homage to preservation—not in the sense of really freezing things in time, but rather, in terms of celebrating their impact. It's like a flower; after it blooms and fades, it still leaves us with the legacy of color, shape, and smell. I'm interested in channelling that legacy in my art, trying to create something that sticks around and gets people to think about how beautiful yet fragile life is. The flowers may not be in bloom anymore, but their vibe is still a part of what I've made. This exploration of contrasting materials is my way of navigating the delicate balance between holding on and letting go. Flowers teach us to appreciate beauty while it's there, and things like cement and acrylics enable us to remember that beauty even when it's gone. With my art, I want to get people to see how flowers—and life in general—are both fragile and strong at the same time, not as things that fight against each other, but as parts of the same bigger picture. There is a sort of equilibrium in their differences, just as something is enduring in their brevity.

-njo