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And Gravity

£3,750.00

110 × 90 × 4 cm

Acrylic on canvas.

Free shipping anywhere in the world.

Working on this painting made me understand something about myself that I had only ever felt in fragments. The act of painting opened a kind of cosmic distance — a sense that personal experience, even the painful and desperate parts, sits within a much larger, unknowable field. As I worked, I realised that these difficult moments aren’t just memories; they are forces that continue to shape me, almost like gravitational pulls that bend the trajectory of who I become.

The multiple panels emerged from this awareness. Each image feels like its own world, its own orbit, yet they draw toward one another with an invisible logic. I never consciously construct a narrative, but the story forms anyway, rising out of instinct and intuition. It mirrors the way our inner lives cohere: scattered episodes, flashes of emotion, moments of rupture — all aligning into something that feels necessary, even if it’s impossible to fully explain.

What moves me is that the narrative remains ungraspable. It shifts like constellations. It carries both wonder and ache. In this painting, I found a kind of truth: that meaning often emerges not from certainty, but from the cosmic stitching-together of disparate experiences, pain included, into a single living image.

110 × 90 × 4 cm

Acrylic on canvas.

Free shipping anywhere in the world.

Working on this painting made me understand something about myself that I had only ever felt in fragments. The act of painting opened a kind of cosmic distance — a sense that personal experience, even the painful and desperate parts, sits within a much larger, unknowable field. As I worked, I realised that these difficult moments aren’t just memories; they are forces that continue to shape me, almost like gravitational pulls that bend the trajectory of who I become.

The multiple panels emerged from this awareness. Each image feels like its own world, its own orbit, yet they draw toward one another with an invisible logic. I never consciously construct a narrative, but the story forms anyway, rising out of instinct and intuition. It mirrors the way our inner lives cohere: scattered episodes, flashes of emotion, moments of rupture — all aligning into something that feels necessary, even if it’s impossible to fully explain.

What moves me is that the narrative remains ungraspable. It shifts like constellations. It carries both wonder and ache. In this painting, I found a kind of truth: that meaning often emerges not from certainty, but from the cosmic stitching-together of disparate experiences, pain included, into a single living image.