When the tides of nebulae surge across light-years, we seal the breath of the cosmos into transparent vessels — this is Solidified Starlight, a collection of "slices of the universe held in the palm." Those swirling, bursting hues within the acrylic cubes are the lingering flames of the Orion Nebula, the streaming light from the spiral arms of Andromeda: aquamarine wrapped in pale green, ripples stirred by the collision of stardust; the intertwining of violet and gold, the residual warmth of a supernova's aftermath. Even the bubbles whisper tales of interstellar dust. We refused to let nebulae linger only in the distant, untouchable night sky — the sharp edges of the vessels are "boundaries," yet also a "gentle framing": condensing the chaos and romance of the cosmos into tangible forms, like distilling starlight from billions of years ago into quiet fireworks that can grace a room.

When you lean in to gaze upon these vibrant folds, you are truly locking eyes with a flowing moment of interstellar time: the universe, in its essence, is an untamed wave, and we have chosen to preserve the blossom at its crest into an eternal form.