I have always been drawn to the idea that everyone carries a hidden sun—some quiet source of light and warmth they rarely show the world. The Cartographer of Hidden Suns began as an attempt to chart that unseen territory, to draw a map of something that cannot actually be measured.

Working in acrylic and metallic on watercolor-mounted paper, I built the piece within a small circular format, echoing old astronomical charts and ship compasses. The vintage carved wood frame, hand-painted to match, became part of the map itself—a worn edge around a private sky.

At its center is a question I keep returning to in my work: what would it look like if we could actually locate the light inside another person? Could it be charted, named, given coordinates like a star?

The cartographer never finds the sun. She only learns, more precisely, where to keep looking.