Awakening
Mixed media on canvas
48 x 60 in
Awakening is not quiet. It’s layered, charged, alive. Like standing inside the bloom of something that took a long time to grow—something that weathered every storm, cracked open, and decided to rise anyway.
This piece is built on tension and tenderness. Deep reds and shadows tell of pain—wounds once raw, now woven into texture. Those textured ridges, those thick brushstrokes—they are not smoothed over. They are honored. A map of healing that leaves space for the scars.
But then there’s the burst. The flush of pinks, the currents of green, the fire of yellow and cobalt that cut through it all. These colors don’t ask for permission. They surge forward, declaring: I am here. I am alive. I am whole even in my unraveling.
At its heart, Awakening is about re-entering your body, your joy, your power—after forgetting what it felt like to fully take up space.
This isn’t a beginning. It’s a returning.
Mixed media on canvas
48 x 60 in
Awakening is not quiet. It’s layered, charged, alive. Like standing inside the bloom of something that took a long time to grow—something that weathered every storm, cracked open, and decided to rise anyway.
This piece is built on tension and tenderness. Deep reds and shadows tell of pain—wounds once raw, now woven into texture. Those textured ridges, those thick brushstrokes—they are not smoothed over. They are honored. A map of healing that leaves space for the scars.
But then there’s the burst. The flush of pinks, the currents of green, the fire of yellow and cobalt that cut through it all. These colors don’t ask for permission. They surge forward, declaring: I am here. I am alive. I am whole even in my unraveling.
At its heart, Awakening is about re-entering your body, your joy, your power—after forgetting what it felt like to fully take up space.
This isn’t a beginning. It’s a returning.
Mixed media on canvas
48 x 60 in
Awakening is not quiet. It’s layered, charged, alive. Like standing inside the bloom of something that took a long time to grow—something that weathered every storm, cracked open, and decided to rise anyway.
This piece is built on tension and tenderness. Deep reds and shadows tell of pain—wounds once raw, now woven into texture. Those textured ridges, those thick brushstrokes—they are not smoothed over. They are honored. A map of healing that leaves space for the scars.
But then there’s the burst. The flush of pinks, the currents of green, the fire of yellow and cobalt that cut through it all. These colors don’t ask for permission. They surge forward, declaring: I am here. I am alive. I am whole even in my unraveling.
At its heart, Awakening is about re-entering your body, your joy, your power—after forgetting what it felt like to fully take up space.
This isn’t a beginning. It’s a returning.
