Have you ever felt that quiet ache… when the world you love begins to change the skies shifting, the trees thinning, the colors fading in ways you can’t quite name? There is a word for that feeling — Solastalgia. It’s a neologism a newly created word formed from the Latin sōlācium, meaning solace or comfort, and solus, meaning desolation combined with the Greek -algia, meaning pain or grief. Together, they describe the emotional and existential distress caused by the loss or degradation of our environment a homesickness we feel, even if we never left our homes… the sorrow we feel as the familiar landscape of our surroundings begin to vanish. I was moved to paint this piece after reading the National Geographic’s article, “An Optimist’s Guide to Life on Earth in 2070.” It made me wonder how we might still find hope, beauty, and belonging amid a changing planet. The lower part of this painting draws from Gustav Klimt’s Chalices. I thought of human beings holding to Mother Earth’s umbilical cord while our planet is still green, and our world is still alive. I wanted to capture humanity’s frailty, and our consciousness of grief and reverence the truth that beauty and loss often coexist. Owning Solastalgia is a reminder that Mother Earth is fragile. Her balance is delicate… And within every brushstroke lies a call to see her beauty so immense to remember what we still have, and to care for her more deeply, for she is only home we truly have.