In After the Fire, a Whisper, Bethany Carlson draws a haunting parallel between the natural world and the human body. Rendered in black and white ink with subtle metallic wax accents, the branching forms evoke both scorched tree limbs and the delicate architecture of human lungs. This visual overlap blurs the boundary between internal and external landscapes, inviting reflection on breath, fragility, and survival.

Created in the wake of destruction, the piece suggests a quiet aftermath—a moment of stillness where grief settles and something tender begins to emerge. The title speaks to what remains when devastation has passed: not silence, but a whisper, a trace of resilience. With her characteristic sensitivity to line and metaphor, Carlson offers an image of interconnectedness that is both bodily and ecological, holding space for loss, healing, and the fine filaments that keep us tethered to life.