Just as they brought seeds to new locations, the birds in Portland artist Christina Mrozik's latest collection cling to the beating heart with their paws. Graphite illustrations intertwine large numbers of feathers and bird body parts with organs that are still bleeding, suggesting that they were recently ripped off their chests causing them to descend.
Coraticum — cor means heart in Latin — is an exploration of reconstruction, an exploration defined by taking the heart out of the body. "It represents the starting point, the center, the seed of emotional unfolding. I think it's the place before the stem or root, before the flower or honey," they said. As a whole, the series takes into account the difficult emotions necessary for transformation. Mrozik (previously) told Colossal that the project stemmed from personal upheaval in their lives, explaining:
My relationship underwent a major restructuring, recalibrating my brain's response to chronic pain and learning about my history of neurological trauma. The way I move in-house has undergone massive rearrangements and self-censorship, and I'm doing my best to find a place to put things. Then the quarantine began, and it felt like the rescheduling was taking place on a global scale.
Each monochrome illustration is associated with a specific step in the reconstruction process: "Eye of Memory" represents memory, "Custody" represents self-preservation, "Ten Intuitions" represents desire and instinct, "Reverse Collision" represents letting go, and "Lifting Permissions" refers to questions of permission.
