The brief demanded the compass feel inevitable in radically different worlds — so I went to the space between. Between ocean and land, day and night, Fiji and Bohemia, instrument and relic. The Nacre Cartographers were pearl divers who believed the teeth of the drowned could find what living eyes couldn't — not treasure, but the precise location where someone stopped wanting to surface. The cherry blossoms are mono no aware made literal: beauty scattered on water that will erase it. The glass-and-tapa garment is what happens when two cultures of transformation meet — Bohemian fire-craft and Fijian bark-beating, both ways of making the unwearable wearable. I wanted her to look like someone who has just realized the compass works, and wishes it didn't. — Sable