I did not begin this collection from certainty. 
It began in rupture.
Grief cracked me open. Stripped me bare. 
What remained was not absence, but force.

In losing, I met myself.

I became my own muse.
Not as image, but as becoming.
Through colour, through movement, through wild uncontained strokes,
I began to return.

These paintings carry contrast.
Softness beside edge.
Beauty inside ache.
Light breaking through density.

There is something sacred in heartbreak.
It asks us to stand alone.
To dig deeper.
To meet what is unspoken.

In that meeting, we become powerful.

The Woman in these works is not observed.
She is rising.
She is feeling.
She is transforming.

Grief does not diminish us.
It refines us.

Through oil and colour, I honour that transformation.
Fire.
Tenderness.
The strength that emerges when we choose ourselves.