I wish this wasn't Silver plated, 2026

A disembodied wooden hand, painted black, is mounted high on the wall, its fingers curled as though animating something just beyond view. From its grasp, fine threads drop three silver forms — a crescent moon and star, a Star of David, a cross — the emblematic shorthand of the three Abrahamic faiths, held together in a single, suspended constellation. Hand-sawn, polished and silver plated, each symbol works like a fractured mirror, catching light and throwing it back across the room in scattered, luminous fragments, while shadows fall across the wall. Light and shadow share one source — a reminder that these three faiths, so often positioned as opposing, are drawn from the same root. Rather than dwelling on division, the piece finds quiet hope in proximity: the symbols hang side by side, moved by the same hand, catching the same light, casting shadows that overlap and blur into one another. In a world where religious and cultural difference is so often used to separate, Wassall's marionette suggests another possibility — that what unites these faiths might be as visible, and as luminous, as what sets them apart. The title reads less as lament than as aspiration: a wish for the clarity and connection that silver offers — reflective, shared, and capable of turning fracture into something that catches light.