☙ HELLOO >w< ☙

i'm basil — a neurodivergent, chronically ill artist and writer of nigerian descent, weaving my world from a small corner of canada. this website, the glass cathedral, is both a sanctuary and a living chronicle: a crumbling chapel where nature claws through stained glass, tangled in ivy and honesty. it reflects my fraught journey with religion, reimagined through gothic decay, rebirth, and the quiet rage of roots splitting stone.

✷ creation as counterspell ✷

i craft jewelry, poetry, and essays that dissect systems — religious, political, or societal — to rebuild something wilder in their place. my hands shape mock rosaries from bone beads and oxidized metals, twisting tradition into talismans for the disillusioned. each piece is a psalm :

• ☙ crosses gnarled like tree roots
• ☙ prayer beads dyed moss-green and storm-gray
• ☙ handwritten cards unpacking their symbiosis of critique and hope

crochet once tangled my ADHD brain in loops of frustration (RIP the baby-sized "hat" now repurposed as a spell pouch T^T). jewelry-making became my meditation — an act of building amidst chronic pain and a brain that fights focus. when my body allows, i also write: nonfiction fermenting fury into philosophy, poetry grafting scars onto star maps.

✷ glass houses, green altars ✷

"glass cathedral" isn't just aesthetics. it's transparency:

• ■ shattering the facades of institutions that left me bruised
• ■ letting light erode dogma until only wilderness remains
• ■ acknowledging fragility (bodies, beliefs, systems) while daring to rebuild

my work thrives in paradox: bones as adornment, cathedrals as compost, anger as artistry. it's political, spiritual, and deeply personal — a mosaic of my queerness, neurodivergence (autism/ADHD/STPD), and the hyperadrenergic POTS that chains me to rest.

✷ toward a wilder future ✷

between medication hurdles and lost prescriptions (RIP my abilify, gone but not forgotten . . . ), i'm plotting:

• expanding glass cathedral into a full jewelry line — each piece a portable rebellion
• curating a substack merging poetry with essays on divinity, disability, and decay
• collaborating with moss, time, and the occasional thrifted saint statue

this isn't just art — it's a lifeline.
for me, and maybe for you.

stay awhile.
the ivy's just starting to bloom.