In the winter of 2021-22 I lived in the Yukon, where the cold reaches -55°C (-67°F), and the sun doesn't rise. The depression was real, so I filled my room with plants because I needed something fragile around me to get out of bed and be strong for. Caring for them meant becoming a vigilant pruner, sacrificing parts to keep the rest of the plant alive. Over the course of 2 weeks I began saving and pressing the sacrificed parts, sealing them in tape, stitching panels together by hand, and presenting them in a window. 

This was my way of honoring the pruning, and meditating on the often painful process of survival.