These miniature poetry tins are vessels—portable altars of memory, resistance, and reimagining. Each one holds a poem, an image, and a quiet world that invites the viewer to pause, to notice, to feel.

Rooted in the aftermath of displacement and trauma, my work reclaims narrative space through ancestral memory and handmade ritual. The poems are typed by hand. The interiors are assembled slowly, mindfully, sometimes obsessively—an act of care in response to a world that often feels careless.

The tins are small on purpose: they require intimacy. You have to lean in to see them. That intimacy reflects the personal nature of the work, but also challenges larger ideas—what we’re told is beautiful, valuable, or worthy of preservation.

The poems inside each tin are not fragments, but offerings. My poetry is grounded in the lyric tradition—haunted by silence, shaped by exile, and in conversation with the body, the land, and the archive. In the tins, the visual and the poetic meet to create tactile, embodied encounters with language.

Inspired by the aesthetics of wabi-sabi and the philosophy of kintsugi, these tins embrace imperfection, fragility, and repair. Cracks are not hidden—they are illuminated. Each piece carries the marks of process, of failure, of persistence, and of care. Wholeness, here, is not seamless—it is chosen.

Each title carries its own emotional gravity. These are not decorative pieces. They are love letters to the self, to silence, to resistance, and to those still learning how to come home to themselves.

See more at @amandareaveystudio