Kame
Kame
While living in Honduras, I visited the ruins of Copán and stopped into a small artisan shop with someone I was seeing at the time. The walls were covered in hand-carved Mayan astrology signs. I asked the woman running the place to look up mine. She did—“Kame,” she said. Then she looked up my companion’s—and jumped. Same sign.
Kame is the day sign of death and transformation—not in a bleak way, but as a symbol of spiritual growth, ancestral ties, and the cycles we’re all bound to. It speaks to facing fear, embracing change, and evolving through it.
This mask came out of that experience. It’s part reflection, part relic—a nod to that strange moment in Copán and to the quiet synchronicities that shape our paths. Sometimes, the people who walk beside us are mirrors. Sometimes, they’re reminders. Either way, the sign shows up when it needs to.
Constructed of repurposed materials, galvanized steel wire, aluminum sheet metal, various paints.
16”Hx10.5”Wx6.5”D
Kame
While living in Honduras, I visited the ruins of Copán and stopped into a small artisan shop with someone I was seeing at the time. The walls were covered in hand-carved Mayan astrology signs. I asked the woman running the place to look up mine. She did—“Kame,” she said. Then she looked up my companion’s—and jumped. Same sign.
Kame is the day sign of death and transformation—not in a bleak way, but as a symbol of spiritual growth, ancestral ties, and the cycles we’re all bound to. It speaks to facing fear, embracing change, and evolving through it.
This mask came out of that experience. It’s part reflection, part relic—a nod to that strange moment in Copán and to the quiet synchronicities that shape our paths. Sometimes, the people who walk beside us are mirrors. Sometimes, they’re reminders. Either way, the sign shows up when it needs to.
Constructed of repurposed materials, galvanized steel wire, aluminum sheet metal, various paints.
16”Hx10.5”Wx6.5”D