Ren White, from the series "Glowing Sculptures"

"Glowing Sculptures" is a series of works that can be interpreted on several levels.
On a symbolic level, they refer to the contrast between growth, hope, and development—symbolized by light—and decay, withering, and death—expressed through irregular, seemingly shattered forms and empty shells.
Light has always carried rich, mostly positive symbolism—from the religious concept of eternal light to the common metaphor of a light at the end of the tunnel. In contrast, forms that are cracked and weathered by time and events bring to mind failures, unsuccessful attempts, and an awareness of transience. They serve as a reminder that everything has an end, that even a stone will one day crumble.
These works can also be interpreted as a contrast between what lies within—delicate, immaterial, unspoken—and what lies without: a rough, hard surface meant to protect that spiritual interior.
These material shells need not be a bad thing. They are like thick skin that protects what is delicate. They support the structure, give it shape, and become a material form for immaterial light.
However, the shell is not airtight. It has holes, cracks, and gaps. On the one hand, this means that protection is never perfect. One can look inside and, with the right amount of attention, perceive what is hidden, but through those same cracks, the interior can also be harmed.
On the other hand, if the protection were complete, it would not allow what is inside to reveal itself to the outside. One would not be able to step outside one’s own cocoon or make contact—imperfect, fragmentary, but contact nonetheless.
That is why something shines through these hard shells.
It is no coincidence, too, that many works in this series remain open at the top. There, light has a clear path; it encounters no obstacles to soaring high. Only here, below, at ground level, must one protect oneself.
The works in this series are created using various techniques and materials. Sometimes it is ceramics, sometimes handmade paper, sometimes plastic. The material itself slightly alters the context of the work. Light enveloped in translucent paper has a different effect than light surrounded by granite. The degrees of protection vary, as do the possibilities for revealing oneself and opening up to the outside world.
There are also varying degrees of courage, levels of optimism, and faith that things will be all right—better than they are now, or at least bearable. There are varying levels of resignation, the need to hide, and to withdraw into oneself.
Sometimes the light is strong, as if it wanted at all costs to break through to the outside and brighten people’s lives. Other times, it barely glows inside, muffled by the weight of surrounding events.
Just like in life.
The works have their own names. I wanted them—despite their similarities—not to form an anonymous mass, a crowd. Giving them names emphasizes their individuality, allowing each to be treated separately, more personally. It creates the possibility of establishing an individual relationship.
Just like with a person.