I wanted to reinterpret Botticelli’s vision—strip away the idealism and breathe something raw, fractured, and alive into it.
Venus here isn’t soft or serene. She’s cast in stone, cracked and tagged, but still rising—rebellious, luminous, untouchable. She’s survived centuries of worship, neglect, and vandalism—and she stands anyway.
At nearly five feet tall, Echoes of the Tide has real presence. It’s built to confront, not just decorate. The frame mirrors the work itself—shattered, graffitied, and distressed. Not a boundary, but a continuation of the collapse. Like the statue, it’s endured—and wears the scars.
Museum-grade giclée print on archival fine art paper.
Signed, numbered, and made to outlast the ruins.
