Pressed
2022
Watercolor, ink, and water, photographic transfer on silk
33” x 44” / 83 x 111 cm
Expressive marks drift across the surface, some bold and defined, others faint and ghostly, hinting at what fades with time and what lingers. Some forms float vividly; others are barely there or entirely absent—capturing the elusive nature of memory itself.
In Pressed, Erin Bird transforms the everyday into an intimate meditation on memory, longing, and the quiet ache of trying to hold onto what inevitably slips away. Together with her daughter, Bird gathered blooms from their garden, each flower plucked in a moment of fleeting enchantment, then pressed between thin wooden sheets to preserve —an act both tender and knowingly futile.
Layered within the petals are photographic transfers of eyes: Bird’s own, those of her husband, daughter, and son. They gaze outward, a hauntingly familiar presence woven into each flower, becoming both witnesses to and guardians of memory. These eyes symbolize the enduring bonds of family and the way our loved ones are forever entwined in the fabric of our lives, even as time and memory drift beyond our grasp.
In this way, Pressed resides within Bird’s liminal garden, a space where the boundaries of time and memory dissolve, leaving traces of what was once vibrant but now gently fades—a reminder of the beauty in moments that live on the edge of memory and loss.
2022
Watercolor, ink, and water, photographic transfer on silk
33” x 44” / 83 x 111 cm
Expressive marks drift across the surface, some bold and defined, others faint and ghostly, hinting at what fades with time and what lingers. Some forms float vividly; others are barely there or entirely absent—capturing the elusive nature of memory itself.
In Pressed, Erin Bird transforms the everyday into an intimate meditation on memory, longing, and the quiet ache of trying to hold onto what inevitably slips away. Together with her daughter, Bird gathered blooms from their garden, each flower plucked in a moment of fleeting enchantment, then pressed between thin wooden sheets to preserve —an act both tender and knowingly futile.
Layered within the petals are photographic transfers of eyes: Bird’s own, those of her husband, daughter, and son. They gaze outward, a hauntingly familiar presence woven into each flower, becoming both witnesses to and guardians of memory. These eyes symbolize the enduring bonds of family and the way our loved ones are forever entwined in the fabric of our lives, even as time and memory drift beyond our grasp.
In this way, Pressed resides within Bird’s liminal garden, a space where the boundaries of time and memory dissolve, leaving traces of what was once vibrant but now gently fades—a reminder of the beauty in moments that live on the edge of memory and loss.
2022
Watercolor, ink, and water, photographic transfer on silk
33” x 44” / 83 x 111 cm
Expressive marks drift across the surface, some bold and defined, others faint and ghostly, hinting at what fades with time and what lingers. Some forms float vividly; others are barely there or entirely absent—capturing the elusive nature of memory itself.
In Pressed, Erin Bird transforms the everyday into an intimate meditation on memory, longing, and the quiet ache of trying to hold onto what inevitably slips away. Together with her daughter, Bird gathered blooms from their garden, each flower plucked in a moment of fleeting enchantment, then pressed between thin wooden sheets to preserve —an act both tender and knowingly futile.
Layered within the petals are photographic transfers of eyes: Bird’s own, those of her husband, daughter, and son. They gaze outward, a hauntingly familiar presence woven into each flower, becoming both witnesses to and guardians of memory. These eyes symbolize the enduring bonds of family and the way our loved ones are forever entwined in the fabric of our lives, even as time and memory drift beyond our grasp.
In this way, Pressed resides within Bird’s liminal garden, a space where the boundaries of time and memory dissolve, leaving traces of what was once vibrant but now gently fades—a reminder of the beauty in moments that live on the edge of memory and loss.