how it lives

Mixed media on scavenged plywood

Started thinking about how we're always being seen from angles we can't control. How many versions of ourselves exist in other people's heads. The mouth came last - couldn't decide if it should speak or stay silent. Chose the in-between.

emergence

Sometimes the wood shows through on purpose. Let the material have its say too. The purple pupils weren't about mysticism - just the only paint I had left that day. But maybe that's the point. We make meaning from what's available.