What is Anastatica?
Anastatica is a project, a portfolio, a gallery, and a publication.
Anastatica is an experiment. A trial. An essay. It’s the act of putting pen to paper and of changing the cartridge when it runs dry.
Anastatica is a journey of self-discovery, a pilgrimage through the known and the unknown, lighting candles at the altars of temples old and new.
Anastatica is the rippled reflection of a dream, in a mirror of stained glass, forged from the shards a long line of mirrors, each forged from the shards of its predecessor.
Anastatica is the calm of primordial oceans, the serenity of the first forests, the breath of the wind caressing the surface of the Earth. It’s also chaos and nothingness, the strike of lightning, the roar of the furnace, the mark of the human hand printed on the stone wall of a cave.
Anastatica is a deep burrow hidden between the roots of a great oak.
Anastatica is a hand reaching out towards the world.
Anastatica is a tale as old as time, the story of a life, that cries itself into this world and whispers on its way out.
Anastatica is a cage of desiccated branches, rolled by the hands of fate. A tumbleweed that goes wherever the wind blows, a fossilised echo that once was green. It spirals onwards across the desert sand, biding its time, until at long last the rains falls, and it feels its stiffness soften, its aches fade, and it yawns, stretching out beneath the heavens for the first time in a century.
And then blooms.