This painting speaks about a rare moment of calm. Not happiness in a loud or celebratory way, but a quiet clarity that arrives after long periods of noise, pain and confusion. The figure is turned inward, no longer reacting to the outside world, no longer fighting it either.
The colours are layered, but they are not in conflict. They sit together, as emotions do when they finally stop competing for space. This is the feeling of understanding where you are, accepting what is, and allowing yourself to breathe without urgency. The body feels whole, even with its scars.
The red handprint floats away from the figure, like something released rather than held onto — a trace of past struggle that no longer defines the present. It is still there, acknowledged, but at a distance. It does not hurt anymore.
This painting speaks about a rare moment of calm. Not happiness in a loud or celebratory way, but a quiet clarity that arrives after long periods of noise, pain and confusion. The figure is turned inward, no longer reacting to the outside world, no longer fighting it either.
The colours are layered, but they are not in conflict. They sit together, as emotions do when they finally stop competing for space. This is the feeling of understanding where you are, accepting what is, and allowing yourself to breathe without urgency. The body feels whole, even with its scars.
The red handprint floats away from the figure, like something released rather than held onto — a trace of past struggle that no longer defines the present. It is still there, acknowledged, but at a distance. It does not hurt anymore.
