What Passes Through considers the body as a threshold: a place where light, memory, grief, devotion, and time enter, change form, and continue.

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Across photography, painting, mixed media, sculpture, light, and movement, Christina Moralez King returns to moments of transmission—sunlight breaking through clouds, a signal carried across wires, a mother's gaze inside a dream, the dissolution and reconstruction of the self.

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Here, transformation is not a movement from darkness into light. The two remain entangled. Death passes into memory. Grief becomes devotion. The body breaks and remakes itself. What disappears may return altered.

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Salvation, too, is reciprocal.

We wait for the signal, but we also call for it.

Something reaches toward us.

Something in us reaches back.

The light remembers.

 We call for the signal.

 Something in us answers.

The self moves this way too.

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We disapear into time and return changed.

The central form rises like both a tree and a spine, suggesting a body becoming landscape and landscape becoming body. Light moves through the darkness not as rescue from somewhere outside, but as a signal already present within the structure itself

This painting began with a dream.

My mother told me she was going to die. I didn't want to hear her. I told her, "Just don't die."

She said, "Christina, look at my eye."

And when I looked, I understood that she was already dead.

I began working on Transfiguration after my mother passed away from cirrhosis. At the time, I was drinking heavily and afraid of what my own future might become.

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I constructed the work as an eye looking outward. Within it are many versions of the same person: damaged, surviving, disappearing, returning.

Transfiguration is about the possibility that we are not bound to remain who we have been.

Attention is a form of devotion.

What we turn toward becomes holy.