

I’ve been thinking about what stays with us after something heavy passes. What I am referring to is the space that comes after when the tension has already loosened, and what remains doesn’t feel reactive anymore.
I found these works in that state. I wasn’t looking for anything specific, and I wasn’t at a peak or a breaking point. I was just somewhere in the middle of what continues, where things aren’t trying to prove themselves anymore, and movement keeps happening simply because it hasn’t stopped.
I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s the closest I can get to explaining why these particular pieces stayed with me.

I came across this work some time ago without searching for it, and it stayed with me longer than I expected. The first thing that came to mind was Basquiat because of the feeling this piece has given me. That same restless energy on the surface, something charged underneath, the kind of work that feels like it’s breathing through tension.
And when I noticed the title, I started thinking about what we are surviving right now, the current state of things, the noise, the weight, and the constant motion that doesn’t seem to lead anywhere specific. The piece doesn’t explain any of that, and I don’t think it’s trying to, but it carries it somehow. Like it already knows what I’m still figuring out how to say.
I keep coming back to it, and I still don’t understand why.
You can experience the full work here.

I encountered this work during one of last year’s festive seasons, and I wasn’t in a festive mood, which happens to me more often than I’d like to admit.
What I feel during these times, and what I felt then, is this strange disconnect. Everyone around me is so focused on the traditions, on the specific things you’re supposed to do, and on the rituals that get repeated without anyone asking why. And somewhere along the way, the reason the celebration exists in the first place gets completely forgotten. People celebrate the form but not the meaning, and I’m left standing there feeling like I’m the only one who sees it.
This piece is tied to a different tradition, a different kind of light. But it met me exactly where I was. It didn’t resolve anything, but it reminded me that light doesn’t always come from the outside. Sometimes you have to look for it yourself, without knowing if you’ll find it right away.
The full work can be experienced here.

A tree standing alone in fog, rooted in the cold of winter. Nothing dramatic happens in this piece, and yet everything is there.
I thought about my own winters when I saw it, the periods where everything feels heavy and suspended and lonely, where growth seems invisible, and you’re not sure if anything is actually happening beneath the surface. It reminded me of those times when I am just waiting without knowing for what exactly.
This piece doesn’t rush toward renewal or try to convince you that things will get better. It stays as a reminder that endurance itself might be a form of becoming, even when nothing seems to be blooming yet.
The full work can be experienced here.

This work made me feel small at first. I mean, it’s hard not to feel diminished when you step back and look at something that big.
But the longer I stayed with it, the more I started thinking about my own fears, the things I carry around that feel enormous when I look at them too closely. And this piece gave me perspective, which I felt as relief. It felt like stepping back far enough to realize that what felt overwhelming might not be as large as I thought it was.
Fear often appears vast because we measure it too closely. When you widen the frame, it starts to lose its grip. That’s what this piece did for me.
Experience the full work here.

This one hit close to where I’ve been lately.
I’ve been feeling like I pour too much of myself outward, into spaces, into people, and into things that ask for pieces of me without really knowing how to hold them. And for a while, it can look like balance, like everything is fine, but underneath there’s always this sense that what I’m offering isn’t fully true.
This piece reminded me that there’s a kind of courage in choosing not to dilute yourself, even if it means standing alone with what’s real. That’s what stayed with me.
You can experience the full work here.
These works stayed with me, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with that yet. Maybe nothing, as some things just stay.🌹
I’ve been thinking about what stays with us after something heavy passes. What I am referring to is the space that comes after when the tension has already loosened, and what remains doesn’t feel reactive anymore.
I found these works in that state. I wasn’t looking for anything specific, and I wasn’t at a peak or a breaking point. I was just somewhere in the middle of what continues, where things aren’t trying to prove themselves anymore, and movement keeps happening simply because it hasn’t stopped.
I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s the closest I can get to explaining why these particular pieces stayed with me.

I came across this work some time ago without searching for it, and it stayed with me longer than I expected. The first thing that came to mind was Basquiat because of the feeling this piece has given me. That same restless energy on the surface, something charged underneath, the kind of work that feels like it’s breathing through tension.
And when I noticed the title, I started thinking about what we are surviving right now, the current state of things, the noise, the weight, and the constant motion that doesn’t seem to lead anywhere specific. The piece doesn’t explain any of that, and I don’t think it’s trying to, but it carries it somehow. Like it already knows what I’m still figuring out how to say.
I keep coming back to it, and I still don’t understand why.
You can experience the full work here.

I encountered this work during one of last year’s festive seasons, and I wasn’t in a festive mood, which happens to me more often than I’d like to admit.
What I feel during these times, and what I felt then, is this strange disconnect. Everyone around me is so focused on the traditions, on the specific things you’re supposed to do, and on the rituals that get repeated without anyone asking why. And somewhere along the way, the reason the celebration exists in the first place gets completely forgotten. People celebrate the form but not the meaning, and I’m left standing there feeling like I’m the only one who sees it.
This piece is tied to a different tradition, a different kind of light. But it met me exactly where I was. It didn’t resolve anything, but it reminded me that light doesn’t always come from the outside. Sometimes you have to look for it yourself, without knowing if you’ll find it right away.
The full work can be experienced here.

A tree standing alone in fog, rooted in the cold of winter. Nothing dramatic happens in this piece, and yet everything is there.
I thought about my own winters when I saw it, the periods where everything feels heavy and suspended and lonely, where growth seems invisible, and you’re not sure if anything is actually happening beneath the surface. It reminded me of those times when I am just waiting without knowing for what exactly.
This piece doesn’t rush toward renewal or try to convince you that things will get better. It stays as a reminder that endurance itself might be a form of becoming, even when nothing seems to be blooming yet.
The full work can be experienced here.

This work made me feel small at first. I mean, it’s hard not to feel diminished when you step back and look at something that big.
But the longer I stayed with it, the more I started thinking about my own fears, the things I carry around that feel enormous when I look at them too closely. And this piece gave me perspective, which I felt as relief. It felt like stepping back far enough to realize that what felt overwhelming might not be as large as I thought it was.
Fear often appears vast because we measure it too closely. When you widen the frame, it starts to lose its grip. That’s what this piece did for me.
Experience the full work here.

This one hit close to where I’ve been lately.
I’ve been feeling like I pour too much of myself outward, into spaces, into people, and into things that ask for pieces of me without really knowing how to hold them. And for a while, it can look like balance, like everything is fine, but underneath there’s always this sense that what I’m offering isn’t fully true.
This piece reminded me that there’s a kind of courage in choosing not to dilute yourself, even if it means standing alone with what’s real. That’s what stayed with me.
You can experience the full work here.
These works stayed with me, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with that yet. Maybe nothing, as some things just stay.🌹
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