Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Materials: Mixed-media on canvas (oil, acrylic, sand, modeling paste and others)
Dimensions: 30” x 40”
After painting intuitively, I didn’t expect the painting to come out so sharp and bright. I was tempted to soften it with more blending—to tame it down.
Then my friend, a pianist, saw me painting from the living room. He said, “Gizote,” a word from his mother tongue, Amharic, which he explained as meaning that I had painted from a place of “internal exile.”
So I decided to leave the painting as it was.
There must be something inside it that needs to sing.
If you have ever felt that something within you wanted to sing out loud—to shine without hesitation, without apology, without worrying about being too much—this painting is a signal. A permission.
A permission to let that inner vibrancy emerge, untamed.
This painting is part of The Light We Carry, ten new paintings about the light we hold on to, and the light we pass on.
Each one began with a moment from my life: a question from a burned-out colleague, my son comparing his love for me to fried chicken, a friend I lost who promised to become a blue star, my grandmother telling me I was special. On the canvas, those moments became flowers. They rise out of rugged, sandy textures, dissolve into drifting color, and open again.
Where The Genesis of Bloom asked where we belong, this collection asks what we carry with us. Softness and strength. Memory and hope. The kindness of the people who shaped us. Even through dark seasons, that light stays, and it finds its way out.
All works are original, one-of-a-kind, mixed media on canvas.
Materials: Mixed-media on canvas (oil, acrylic, sand, modeling paste and others)
Dimensions: 30” x 40”
After painting intuitively, I didn’t expect the painting to come out so sharp and bright. I was tempted to soften it with more blending—to tame it down.
Then my friend, a pianist, saw me painting from the living room. He said, “Gizote,” a word from his mother tongue, Amharic, which he explained as meaning that I had painted from a place of “internal exile.”
So I decided to leave the painting as it was.
There must be something inside it that needs to sing.
If you have ever felt that something within you wanted to sing out loud—to shine without hesitation, without apology, without worrying about being too much—this painting is a signal. A permission.
A permission to let that inner vibrancy emerge, untamed.
This painting is part of The Light We Carry, ten new paintings about the light we hold on to, and the light we pass on.
Each one began with a moment from my life: a question from a burned-out colleague, my son comparing his love for me to fried chicken, a friend I lost who promised to become a blue star, my grandmother telling me I was special. On the canvas, those moments became flowers. They rise out of rugged, sandy textures, dissolve into drifting color, and open again.
Where The Genesis of Bloom asked where we belong, this collection asks what we carry with us. Softness and strength. Memory and hope. The kindness of the people who shaped us. Even through dark seasons, that light stays, and it finds its way out.
All works are original, one-of-a-kind, mixed media on canvas.