Purpose

On the island of Terschelling, I began with a raw linen canvas.
Prussian blue paint spread like the tide, then came the oyster. With a palette knife I carved its form, layering texture and life into it. I pressed true silver leaf into its surface, a shimmer that catches light like moonlit water. Silverleaf never lies flat; it cracks, it shifts, it glimmers differently with every angle, like the sea itself.

And then, the pearl.
Three-dimensional, rising gently from the shell, it rests not as decoration but as the heart of the story.
Every pearl is born from an irritation the oyster cannot escape. like a single grain of sand.
And yet, it does not resist. It transforms. Layer by layer, the wound becomes treasure.

And aren’t we the same?
Our purpose is not given; it is grown.
Through friction, through patience and through grace.
The very things we wish away might be the things shaping our pearl.

“An oyster doesn’t plan a pearl, it simply responds. So does purpose.” – Marinka