“I will roll and I will roll, and you will roll, the egg will be ready, then you will take the egg.”

During my time at “Shepherds & Spindles “ Verpėjos Art Residency, I found myself immersed in the liminal space in between —located in Kabeliai, a small Village in Lithuania bordered with Belarus, the inter-zone, where land and water, history and memory, human-made borders, body and landscape converge. This research, set within an endorheic basin and surrounded by water springs, reflects the cyclical nature of life as water flows inward, evaporates, and is reborn. These basins transcend human-made borders, merging mist and water at dawn weaving together deep space and time. Here, I focused on borderlands wandering and thinking with water—meeting the region’s waters while learning the ancient art of shepherding and exploring the tradition of hollow tree beekeeping. This borderland wandering became central to my exploration as a bodily experience of the thresholds between the seen and the unseen, the tangible and the intangible. These interzones are where more than human and human experience intertwine, where stories, memories, and energies flow within.

At the heart of my work, I gathered water from over 30 local water bodies and wells throughout the two months. We came together to share stories about these waters—tasting and uniting. This act of offering was a beautiful expression of interconnectedness. Each body of water I researched became a conversation, a meeting place where I connected with the memory of the land. These waters carried the stories of the people and the ecosystems they nourished, like in Musteika, where even the swamps are believed to have been shaped and diverted by weather sorcery. I dressed the Well of Verpejos with sculpture objects I crafted from wool, wood, plants, and found materials like lace curtains. These objects became part of a participatory water ceremony, a collective ceremony where we shared water stories, tasted water essence, and ultimately released the united water into the Nemunas River, letting water flow into the Baltic Sea. This ritual was a communal act of unification, a way to honour the cyclical nature of life and the interdependence of all things.

The figures of the laundress and the water carrier held particular significance in my performance—honoring their memory and the often-overlooked role they played in rural communities. Their work, which sustained life, is now nearly forgotten, but I sought to give them visibility, reconnecting us with their vital contributions.

During my time by the well, I washed raw wool and created large wet-felted pieces that became central to water altars and rituals. Linen and wool—materials with deep resonance—became vital tools in my process. Known for their healing frequencies, these fibers acted as conduits for connecting with the land and water. Wrapping, both in bodywork and in crafting, became a meditative practice, echoing the way water wraps around a stone or how earth cradles a seed. Linen and wool, in their ability to hold warmth and memory, allowed me to explore the somatic act of binding—whether it was wrapping wool in wet-felted forms by the well or wrapping my own body in water during aquatic practices. These fabrics became an extension of my own body, a medium through which I could engage more deeply with the landscape and its memory.

I thank the incredible team at Verpėjos—Laura, Neringa, Ugnė, and Indrė—as well as Carolin Schelkle, with whom I had the pleasure of sharing a studio. Their knowledge, creativity, and kindness made my stay in Verpejos rich with meaning and joy.