Chapter 7: The Power of Transformation
Resin art has changed me in ways I could never have anticipated. What began as a small spark of curiosity grew into something much more profound—a journey of healing, self-discovery, and personal transformation. Working with resin didn’t just help me process my grief; it reshaped the way I see myself and the world around me.
The practice of resin art taught me patience in a way I hadn’t experienced before. Each piece required time to set, layers to build, and sometimes days of waiting to see the final result. In those moments of waiting, I learned to let go of the need for immediate answers, to allow things to unfold in their own time. Just as resin needed space to cure and solidify, I realized that healing, too, required time and patience. This slow, deliberate process helped me embrace the rhythm of life, teaching me that sometimes the most beautiful things emerge when we simply allow them the space to grow.
In addition to patience, resin art taught me acceptance—of both the art itself and of life’s unpredictability. Resin has a mind of its own; it flows, merges, and settles in ways that can’t always be controlled. Despite my best efforts, some colors would blend in unexpected ways, bubbles would appear, or textures would take on a life of their own. Rather than fighting against these imperfections, I began to see them as part of the beauty of each piece. This practice taught me to let go of perfectionism, to accept that things might not always turn out the way I envisioned, and to embrace the surprises along the way.
Creating with resin became a powerful way to honor Jamila's memory. Each piece I made felt like a tribute—a way to channel my grief into something tangible and meaningful. In a way, every swirl of color, every embedded object, was a small conversation with them, a way to keep their memory alive and share it with the world. Resin art became more than just a creative outlet; it became a language for expressing my love, my sorrow, and my hope. It gave me a purpose, a way to turn loss into something beautiful, something that others could appreciate and feel connected to. Through each creation, I found a way to hold on to the love and memories, transforming my grief into art.
The transformation resin brought into my life is a testament to the healing power of creativity. Art allowed me to process my emotions, not by escaping them, but by embracing and working through them. With every piece I completed, I felt a weight lifting, a sense of peace emerging. The act of creating became an act of self-care, a way to nurture my spirit and remind myself that life, even with its heartbreak, still holds moments of beauty and joy. This journey taught me that healing isn’t about forgetting or erasing pain; it’s about finding a way to live with it, to turn it into something that adds meaning and color to our lives.
Now, every time I work with resin, I’m reminded of the journey I’ve taken, from those initial moments of heartbreak and confusion to a place of resilience and hope. Resin art has shown me that transformation doesn’t always look the way we expect; sometimes it’s quiet, gradual, and deeply personal. Through this journey, I’ve come to see that art is a mirror—a way to see the hidden parts of ourselves and understand them with compassion. Resin art gave me the strength to confront my grief, the courage to express it, and the peace to accept life’s imperfections.
In the end, resin art became a metaphor for life itself: unpredictable, sometimes messy, but filled with unexpected beauty if we’re willing to let it flow. It’s a reminder that we all have the power to transform, to take what life gives us—joys and sorrows alike—and create something meaningful from it. Through resin art, I’ve learned that healing is a journey, one that takes us to places we never expected, and in those places, we find pieces of ourselves we didn’t know we’d lost.