Image 1 of 1
Everything And Nothing Always Haunts Me
by Emma Krenze
12” x 16” x 2.5”
ARTIST BIO:
My work is rooted in personal experience; an exploration of grief, memory, identity, and the evolving concept of home. Over the past few years, I’ve experienced profound loss that has fundamentally changed who I am, including how and why I create. Art, once a joyful hobby, has become a lifeline. It’s how I survive the weight of grief—by giving it somewhere to go.
Much of my practice centers around nostalgia and the complex emotions tied to memory. I use domestic and childhood motifs—birthday cakes, wallpaper, dollhouses—to evoke feelings of comfort, innocence, and longing. But these symbols are often layered with unsettling or unexpected elements, creating tension between warmth and unease. That contrast reflects the emotional reality of loss: how grief seeps into even our happiest memories and reshapes our understanding of the past.
I work primarily in mixed media because I believe materials carry their own emotional weight. Over time, I’ve moved from hard structural materials like wood and drywall to softer textiles—fabric, yarn, toys. This shift mirrors my internal transformation and my craving for softness, safety, and comfort. I want the materials to feel human, to invite connection and tenderness even in the presence of sorrow.
I’m a deeply visual thinker; most of my pieces begin as fully formed images in my head, often sparked by emotion or memory. From there, I build the work around that initial vision.
My background in psychology has also shaped my approach, particularly around the idea of what lies beneath the surface—emotionally, physically, and symbolically. Sharing this work, though deeply vulnerable, has become part of my healing. Through it, I hope to make others feel seen in their own grief and remind them that they’re not alone.
by Emma Krenze
12” x 16” x 2.5”
ARTIST BIO:
My work is rooted in personal experience; an exploration of grief, memory, identity, and the evolving concept of home. Over the past few years, I’ve experienced profound loss that has fundamentally changed who I am, including how and why I create. Art, once a joyful hobby, has become a lifeline. It’s how I survive the weight of grief—by giving it somewhere to go.
Much of my practice centers around nostalgia and the complex emotions tied to memory. I use domestic and childhood motifs—birthday cakes, wallpaper, dollhouses—to evoke feelings of comfort, innocence, and longing. But these symbols are often layered with unsettling or unexpected elements, creating tension between warmth and unease. That contrast reflects the emotional reality of loss: how grief seeps into even our happiest memories and reshapes our understanding of the past.
I work primarily in mixed media because I believe materials carry their own emotional weight. Over time, I’ve moved from hard structural materials like wood and drywall to softer textiles—fabric, yarn, toys. This shift mirrors my internal transformation and my craving for softness, safety, and comfort. I want the materials to feel human, to invite connection and tenderness even in the presence of sorrow.
I’m a deeply visual thinker; most of my pieces begin as fully formed images in my head, often sparked by emotion or memory. From there, I build the work around that initial vision.
My background in psychology has also shaped my approach, particularly around the idea of what lies beneath the surface—emotionally, physically, and symbolically. Sharing this work, though deeply vulnerable, has become part of my healing. Through it, I hope to make others feel seen in their own grief and remind them that they’re not alone.
***70% goes to the Artists. 30% Donation goes to PACE. A handling fee is added to the price***