Herbal Cartridges: Sprouting from the Bullets of the Raisin [Izium]

In this series, death and life coexist within a single form. Spent shell casings, once vessels of destruction, become molds for transparent “herbal cartridges.” Inside them, medicinal herbs sprout through the symbols of war, transforming them into capsules of memory and healing.

These objects recall at once laboratory test tubes — used to analyze blood, trace illness, and seek the right treatment — and refined perfume flacons, carriers of luxury, celebration, and beauty. Perfume, too, is born from extracts of herbs and flowers, distillations of nature’s memory into the body.

Thus, the “cartridges” turn into capsules of double meaning: relics of war and, at the same time, fragile reminders of beauty and resilience, of life’s persistence even in the darkest conditions. The wordplay in the title — Raisin as both “Izium,” a city scarred by war, and as the dried fruit, a symbol of preserved energy and endurance — stitches violence with survival.

These are not ammunitions but talismans — “test tubes” diagnosing trauma and “perfume bottles” preserving tenderness and care, where fragments of war are transfigured into vessels of fragility and healing.

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