About "Colors of Compassion" Burning Man 2025

On February 9, 2024—22 years after my father’s passing and on his birthday—I awoke with a dream that shifted everything. I didn’t see the renowned sculptor whose legacy I had carried with both pride and pain. I felt the presence of the father who loved me—flawed, human, and gone too soon. That morning, I fully felt the grief I had buried under anger and responsibility.

Weeks earlier, I had closed the last of our family’s galleries, ending a chapter where I had felt trapped in the shadows of the past. I was raised in a whirlwind of bronze and brilliance—22 galleries, a foundry, a legacy. But I had lost my voice in the process. That same morning, I sculpted a small grieving figure—a nurturing, round, faceless female form—and cast it in pewter. I called her Good Grief. She was my grief made tangible, a symbol of holding and letting go.

At Burning Man 2024, inside the Temple, I realized the lotus pattern belonged on her. I was grieving my mother, who is slowly disappearing into Alzheimer’s. And I was grieving other things too—sexual abuse, rape, fear, shame, and the years I lost to self-medicating and self-doubt. These experiences shaped me, yes, but they also held me captive.

Colors of Compassion is a large-scale version of that small sculpture. It invites people to enter, press a button that corresponds with a stage of grief they are ready to release, and bathe in its symbolic light. It is a space to acknowledge what we carry—and let it shine.

But grief isn’t always about death. It also lives in the moments we choose awareness, when we write a new contract with ourselves. As we grow and change, we grieve the relationships, beliefs, and identities we must leave behind—things that no longer serve the people we’re becoming. That grief is real. That grief deserves compassion too.

And now, as we witness widespread protest, pain, and awakening across the world, it’s clearer than ever that the collective is grieving too—grieving injustice, separation, and disconnection. In this moment, we don’t need to agree—we need to acknowledge. Grief does not discriminate. Healing should not either. Colors of Compassion is an offering—a reminder that we all deserve space to process, to be witnessed, and to grow better together.

This sculpture is my story, but it’s also ours. I hope it finds a permanent home beyond the dust of the Playa—a place where people of all backgrounds can step inside, feel seen, and release what they carry.

It is time to let grief shine.
It is time to let compassion rise.

The build team for Colors of Compassion is led by Ashley Bennett-Stoddard and Milton Neeley, an experienced and artistic welder. The two have collaborated on large-scale sculptures in the past and are excited to bring this deeply meaningful piece to life together. The build will take place in Utah, where they hope to connect with the local Burner community and welcome volunteers of all backgrounds and skill levels. This project is about more than metal and light—it’s about building something that unites humanity through love, compassion, and shared purpose. We’re looking forward to a positive, creative, and collaborative journey!