In this painting, I’m exploring the constant ritual of destruction and renewal—a cycle I find myself trapped in as a way to escape the madness of memory shaped by trauma. The figure is fragmented and multiplied, not just to show different versions of self, but to reflect the disorientation that comes with remembering too much, too vividly. Each piece of me is trying to make sense of the chaos, to survive it.
The wine, the lemons, the white clothing—they all hint at domestic rituals, the ordinary moments we perform to feel sane. But even those moments are loaded. The body is rearranged, undone, and pieced back together again, echoing how trauma fractures identity and how healing is never linear. There’s a tenderness in the gaze, but also a distance—like I’m watching myself from outside my own body.
This work lives in that space between collapse and rebuilding, between holding on and letting go. It’s about the quiet violence of remembering, and the soft, stubborn act of putting yourself back together.
Don’t Let Me Fall
Oil, Acrylic, and Pearls, Satin finish on canvas, 66 x 48