The Preservation of Essence: Why a Decade of Silence Led to a Monumental Statement
In the world of fine art, we often talk about “technique” or “medium.” But for me, the most important element of any work isn’t found in a tube of paint—it is found in the years of life lived before the brush ever touches the surface.
My latest work, “You are the Salt of the Earth,” is an 80-inch testament to a decade that almost broke me, but instead, seasoned me.
The Decade of Refinement
The ten years leading up to this piece were a season of profound upheaval. To a stranger, it might have looked like a pause. To me, it was a sacrifice. During that time, I turned down two offers of marriage to pursue my calling as a full-time volunteer educator. I chose service over security, a decision that led to being laid off and eventually returning home to work as an assistant to my father, an electrical engineer.
Then came the global stillness of COVID-19. I spent those months as my father’s primary protector—masking, sanitizing, and navigating the complexities of his health as his PA. He survived the virus, but the strain of those years took its own toll. Shortly after, a sudden accident led to the discovery of a severe health crisis of my own. I went from the classroom to the operating table, facing surgery and a long road to recovery.
Through all of this, there was one constant: my mentee. I had taught her from the beginning of that decade, watching her grow as I navigated my own “cracks.” By the time I finished this painting, she was a married woman, beginning her own journey of mentoring others. The influence had been preserved; the salt had done its work.
The Revelation at Old Ningo
The soul of this painting found its voice while I was walking through the salt fields of Old Ningo. Watching the workers under the heat, laboring to produce something so essential and so humble, a verse from the book of Matthew came to me:
“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its essence, what is it useful for?”
I realized then that my persistence through job loss, health crises, and personal sacrifice wasn’t just “survival.” It was my essence. My influence in the lives of my father, my students, and my community mattered because I had remained “salty”—I had stayed present, preserving the potential of others even when my own world felt like it was melting away.
The Technical Choice: Encasing the Eternal
This 80-inch centerpiece is more than an open-impressionist work; it is an act of preservation.
Inside the layers of this painting is actual harvested salt from Ningo. But as any worker in those fields knows, salt is vulnerable to the elements; it can melt under the rain or dissolve under heat. To emphasize the need to protect our own “essence” from the heat of apathy and the passage of time, I chose to encase the salt in high-clarity epoxy resin.
The epoxy serves as a second preservative. It ensures that the “salt”—the symbol of my 10-year journey and the resilience of the African spirit—never melts away. It is a poetic promise that if we identify what makes us invaluable to our community, we must fight to keep that fire alive.
A Legacy Piece for the Resilient Collector
“You are the Salt of the Earth” is a work for a collector who understands that true power is refined through transitions. It is for the person who has built a legacy not through ease, but through the intentional, “dot-by-dot” labor of staying true to a vision.
When this piece enters a home or a corporate office, it doesn’t just fill a wall. It anchors the room. It serves as a daily reminder that while life may be volatile, our essence—when protected and preserved—is monumental.
