...a long time coming stages transformation as a private coronation. Framed by curtains, columns, and theatrical architecture, a queen-like figure sits enthroned upon a serpent whose cross-shaped tongue hints at an old religious danger. The serpent does not rule the scene from above; it has been repositioned beneath her. What once endangered her now becomes part of the structure holding her up.

At the center of the ritual, a white tulip with red veining is finally placed where her head should be. The flower becomes a chosen transformation: a ceremonial installation, a new face, a becoming that carries both beauty and cost. Though the red exists naturally within the tulip, within the language of the piece it signifies blood… not as defeat, but as the price of arrival. Above her, tucked into the red drapery, mirrored anthurium-like flowers add a hidden erotic charge to the stage itself, turning the architecture into something lush, bodily, and alive.

Beneath the stage, Honey’s tentacles twist together like the unseen foundation of the scene, supporting the spectacle from below. Read as a mythic self-portrait, the piece reflects the long, painful, self-authored work of becoming: the moment when old threats are no longer above you, but beneath you; when the past is not erased, but rearranged into architecture; when the coronation finally begins.