WINTER SHAMAN
These images explore our forgotten connection to the natural world and ancient wisdom that modern life has left behind.
Here's me in winter, holding a spear, wearing antlers and fur, looking like I could either hunt dinner or just ignore you entirely, depending on my mood. The message is simple: I'm alive where you're frozen. And I'm not apologizing for bringing fire to your winter.
The wild woman is also the nurturer - this is me holding my goose, showing that you don't have to choose between fierce and gentle. You can wear bones and cradle life. You can be the warrior and the protector. Both. Always both.
This is me climbing trees and don't give a fuck. Most people won't climb because it's cold or uncomfortable, or "what if I fall?" I climbed BECAUSE of those reasons. Discomfort isn't death - it's just the price of the view from the top.
Artist's note:
Society wanted me calm, quiet, and frozen like everyone else. Get a job. Be a wife. Have kids. Find their version of peace. I made this instead.
Winter represents death - the resting season, the pause before spring. But I didn't wait for spring. I stood in winter half-naked, wearing death (antlers) and holding life (my goose), and brought my own fire.
My grandmother taught me that sacred work doesn't pause for comfort. So I showed up in winter, climbed trees, wore antlers, and refused to hibernate just because everyone else was sleeping.
We don't just celebrate life or honor death. We hold both as holy.
These photos ask: What would happen if you stopped waiting for permission to thaw? What if you brought your own fire to whatever frozen season you're standing in?
Winter is just a season. Frozen is a choice.
Photographs by Ziggy-Photo
Society wanted me calm, quiet, and frozen like everyone else. Get a job. Be a wife. Have kids. Find their version of peace. I made this instead.
Winter represents death - the resting season, the pause before spring. But I didn't wait for spring. I stood in winter half-naked, wearing death (antlers) and holding life (my goose), and brought my own fire.
My grandmother taught me that sacred work doesn't pause for comfort. So I showed up in winter, climbed trees, wore antlers, and refused to hibernate just because everyone else was sleeping.
We don't just celebrate life or honor death. We hold both as holy.
These photos ask: What would happen if you stopped waiting for permission to thaw? What if you brought your own fire to whatever frozen season you're standing in?
Winter is just a season. Frozen is a choice.
Photographs by Ziggy-Photo