The first bag in the collection.
The one that sat in the corner staring at me for weeks while I painted every other piece around her.
Layers were added. Buried. Covered over. Pulled back through again. At one point, a word stretched across the surface in oversized letters. It didn’t belong there. So I painted over it and kept going.
What remains is the history of that fight.
Black leather carries scratches, ghost marks, flashes of hot pink, soot, gold, interruption. Nothing here feels overly resolved because it isn’t meant to. This piece became less about decoration and more about evidence, of tension, instinct, restraint, regret, confidence, and finally making a decisive mark without apologizing for it.
Mara means “bitter” in Hebrew, a name chosen in the wake of grief and transformation.
She’s not polished.
She’s decided.
The first bag in the collection.
The one that sat in the corner staring at me for weeks while I painted every other piece around her.
Layers were added. Buried. Covered over. Pulled back through again. At one point, a word stretched across the surface in oversized letters. It didn’t belong there. So I painted over it and kept going.
What remains is the history of that fight.
Black leather carries scratches, ghost marks, flashes of hot pink, soot, gold, interruption. Nothing here feels overly resolved because it isn’t meant to. This piece became less about decoration and more about evidence, of tension, instinct, restraint, regret, confidence, and finally making a decisive mark without apologizing for it.
Mara means “bitter” in Hebrew, a name chosen in the wake of grief and transformation.
She’s not polished.
She’s decided.
