Ecohs of Gold by S.Walton

Silence isn’t weakness.

It isn’t empty.

And it isn’t passive.

It’s where my work actually starts.

Before the studio gets busy. Before emails, noise, expectations. There’s a moment where everything is still. The walls. The light. The work itself. Nothing is asking to be rushed. Nothing is asking to be explained.

That moment matters to me more than anything.

I don’t make work to keep up.

I make work to slow things down.

There’s so much pressure now to be louder, clearer, faster—to explain everything before someone asks. I push back against that. Quiet figures. Simple lines. Gold placed carefully, not generously. Not to decorate, but to mean something.

Gold isn’t sparkle in my work.

It’s weight.

It’s a pause you can see.

Once it’s placed, it’s there. No undoing it. And that feels honest to me. Like the moments we pass through every day without realizing they mattered until they’re gone.

The figures I create don’t perform. They aren’t trying to impress or convince. They just stand. Still. Present. And I think that makes people uncomfortable sometimes. We’re not used to being asked to sit with something without being told what to feel.

This work isn’t loud. But it’s not soft either. It doesn’t explain itself because it doesn’t need to. It exists the way it exists, and you’re allowed to meet it wherever you are.

Not everything needs more.

Sometimes less is where the truth is.

So I come into the studio early. Before the noise. I choose quiet on purpose—not to escape the world, but to listen more closely. I let the work take its time. I place gold only when it feels necessary. Stillness becomes something solid, something intentional. The work doesn’t ask to be understood right away. It just asks you to stay with it for a moment.

If silence were allowed to guide you—before the world spoke—what might you hear?