Wynn Yunn

, Canada

For much of my life I lived in patterns that asked me to disappear. Giving, enduring, caretaking. Until nothing of me remained. The death of those selves is where my work begins. I make art to honour what has ended, to sit with grief as it composts into colour. To create space for what can emerge. In a world that asked me to perform, I forgot what was true. My art began as the slow work of remembering. In nature I remember. The beauty of existence should not be contained or controlled. Like the wind, the roots, the slow decay of fallen leaves, I am meant to move, to grow, to shed, to return.

My practice is rooted in honouring the ephemeral and eternal nature of existence. My recent works are made only with what is given, what has already fallen, shed, or grown. Each element carries its own story: flowers received from elders, dirt from the soles of my shoes, medicinal plants my grandmother used to heal me. All carrying endurance in quiet forms. My work aims to create sanctuary. A place for others to remember that they were never meant to be contained or erased. That they are already whole, already part of cycles bigger than themselves, already belonging.