Ruinfield is an encaustic landscape of layered memory and erosion — a field not just of land, but of loss. Its heavily textured surface suggests a rain-drenched bog or a storm-torn pasture, where sorrow settles deep into the soil. Striations and pooled wax speak to fracture, time, and the invisible weight of what was once rooted here. This piece asks: Can land itself become a ruin — not only in structure, but in spirit? And if so, does it remember what was taken from it?