You Are Still You

I painted You Are Still You during a time when my sense of myself felt fragile.

There were moments when words from people close to me stayed longer than they should have. I replayed them quietly, trying to understand what they meant about me. I began to wonder whether I could trust myself at all — whether I was a good person, or if I had misunderstood myself.

Around the same time, I lost a group of friends all at once. It happened faster than I could process. I remember feeling disoriented, unsure of which version of myself was real anymore.

While I was painting, I found myself returning to a small white flower. Some petals were falling, others stayed. Everything around it felt soft and unfocused, as if the background didn’t want to settle into a clear shape.

I kept painting and didn’t stop.

Available editions:

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