I’ve always been drawn to how folklore and legends are reflected in art across time from ancient carvings of deities to the stories told in modern anime. This timeless thread of myth woven through creativity feels like a universal part of the human experience. My interest in ethnographic objects, especially masks, stems from this how they serve as vessels for cultural stories and shared meaning.

Some of the oldest stories humanity has told come from the stars. When we look up at the night sky, it’s natural to see familiar shapes and patterns among the constellations. Orion the Hunter, the Pleiades (often called the Seven Sisters), and countless others have inspired myths across continents. It’s fascinating how cultures separated by oceans created rich lore from the same constellations.

Architecture, too, often reflects this celestial inspiration. Many ancient structures appear to align with star patterns or solstice markers, reflecting a deep human connection to the cosmos. From the pyramids of Egypt to temples in Mesoamerica, it’s clear that the stars were more than just points of light they were part of a greater story.

While I don’t subscribe to speculative theories, I do enjoy imagining the questions that history leaves unanswered. For instance, I once pitched a high school essay imagining how the moral frameworks of early societies might have been shaped by deliberate interventions just as a thought experiment. What I do genuinely believe is that there’s still much we’ve yet to uncover about the origins and depth of human civilization. History is far more layered and complex than we often give it credit for.