Constructed from hand-crocheted, cotton thread mounted on velvet, this tapestry is overgrown and heavily embellished with crawling vines and forest floor detritus. The colors found in the work’s floral elements reference ancient Greco-Roman foraged pigments; kermes and madder-inspired red, woad-like blue tones, lichen-derived greens, and weld or saffron-adjacent yellows. This object is an expression of dissent; all purple hues were intentionally omitted from the color scheme, as Tyre-sourced purple pigment was associated with the male-dominated, war-mongering ruling class.

The work has qualities which reference banners historically used for mourning, liturgical, and military purposes. Keeping this in mind, a bold, red, appliquéd line of text spells out: Perhaps You’ll Bloom Again. The statement references a moment in The Lysistrata during which the chorus of women taunt the men for their mounting frustration. Their comments are a sly retort to an onslaught of insults spewn by the increasingly vexed males of the play. This excerpt of dialogue is posited as something with significance tethering the women's actions to the regenerative properties of nature. The resilience of the land, even in the hammartia (or ravaged aftermath) of countless wars and atrocities, continues to engage in a life-supporting cycle. I feel that this imparts a statement of hope, that sustainable equitability may be achievable, and that humans may contribute to this regeneration with a requisite dose of mindful consideration.