Quadriptych on board, 12 x 12 in. each
Sold as a set
There are seasons where life feels suspended mid-sentence, not broken exactly, just unresolved. Waiting for clarity. Waiting for courage. Waiting for your nervous system to stop buzzing long enough to hear yourself think again.
This piece came from that space.
The dark forms feel like interruptions. Boundaries. Heavy thoughts that refuse to move politely out of the way. But the soft whites, scraped textures, handwritten fragments, and small flashes of orange kept insisting on life anyway. Tiny signals still trying to get through.
I didn’t want this work to shout. I wanted it to hold tension quietly, the way real people do every day while still answering emails, making dinner, showing up, smiling at strangers.
“Hold Please” is about the strange ache of being in-between versions of yourself, when everything feels paused, but something underneath is still moving. Quietly. Persistently. Like a pulse under drywall.
Quadriptych on board, 12 x 12 in. each
Sold as a set
There are seasons where life feels suspended mid-sentence, not broken exactly, just unresolved. Waiting for clarity. Waiting for courage. Waiting for your nervous system to stop buzzing long enough to hear yourself think again.
This piece came from that space.
The dark forms feel like interruptions. Boundaries. Heavy thoughts that refuse to move politely out of the way. But the soft whites, scraped textures, handwritten fragments, and small flashes of orange kept insisting on life anyway. Tiny signals still trying to get through.
I didn’t want this work to shout. I wanted it to hold tension quietly, the way real people do every day while still answering emails, making dinner, showing up, smiling at strangers.
“Hold Please” is about the strange ache of being in-between versions of yourself, when everything feels paused, but something underneath is still moving. Quietly. Persistently. Like a pulse under drywall.
