With Her Selves

Medium: Digital illustration
Print: Archival pigment print on 250gsm smooth coated stock
Dimensions (framed): 42.3 × 59.7 × 2.2 cm (A2)
Year: 2025

There are places where collapse and creation blur.

Where brightness carries more weight than dark.
Where stillness presses harder than movement.

Light opens without asking.
Water turns in on itself.

The ground never chose a side.
The face never settled on one story.

Some things are too bright to keep.
Some are too quiet to refuse.

She’s caught between them.

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A sun wore her face and called it light.
It appeared as a reflection of the puddle below her, and caught her shadow.

Her knees are drawn in, body folding toward the parts of herself that don’t want to be seen.

Around her, there are new wings, old water, things trying to become or trying to hold on.

Life hums in contradiction:
Beginnings with no promise, endings with no warning.

The puddles — thinning or thickening — don’t explain themselves.
The field doesn’t declare decay or growth.
The reflection doesn’t wait to be accurate.

What is stillness, when it carries this much weight?
What is vulnerability, when it’s the only shape that remains?

She sits between those questions without answering or avoiding, Just inhabiting what’s left.