This piece was born from a near-death experience on Aasgard Pass in Washington State last year. I slipped on rotten ice and began sliding toward a 2,000-foot drop. By sheer miracle, I survived. But survival didn’t bring relief—only a heavy numbness that stripped me of joy, connection, and my creative drive.
Instead of turning away, I chose to turn toward the pain. I made this my first linocut. Over four weeks of carving, I relived the moment, layer by layer, shape by shape. The process forced me to feel what I couldn’t say: fear, grief, and the fragile awe of still being here.
When I shared the final print with the two friends who helped me down that mountain—a slow, harrowing descent—I could finally offer them what words never could: my deepest gratitude.
Artmaking became a path back to myself. It held space for what I couldn’t carry alone and transformed trauma into something shared, seen, and ultimately healing.
