"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-lost to me, I lift my lamp bes

world-ico

YEAR

2018

price-ico

PRICE

Not for sale

ABOUT THE WORK

Digital projection, images of wild spirit horses running in the spirit world (looped video projection in slowmo), either overlapped or... Read More