Roots Can Grow Wings

This piece began as a response to a dream my sister had. In the dream, an egg cracked open in her hands, and the bird inside died in front of her eyes. The imagery lingered. It spoke to the quiet grief of inescapable genetics, the idea that we are bound to repeat the choices, habits, and struggles of those who came before us.

But in this reimagining, the egg still breaks, only it doesn’t end in sorrow.

From the shell rises a double helix, unfurling like a vine. DNA becomes both inheritance and possibility, rooted in open hands and growing upward into branches, into trees. From those branches, a bird takes flight. Not doomed. Free.

This painting does not deny the weight of what we carry. It honors it. It acknowledges our limitations while reminding us that we are not trapped by them. What we inherit can be used to build something new. We can grow from it. We can transform.

This is a visual act of mourning, love, and quiet rebellion. A reminder that even roots, when cared for with intention, can grow wings.