In this image, I am very still. Not performing, not reaching — just present. The glass doesn’t hide me; it holds me. Behind the veil of enamel and colour, I feel calm and grounded, as if I am meeting myself in a quiet, sacred space.
Traditionally, portraits of artists in Western art show the artist as a kind of heroic individual — the one in control, the one observing the world. Here, I’m not standing outside of anything. I’m inside the reflection. I’m both the one looking and the one being seen.
The glass becomes a threshold rather than a barrier. It feels ancestral — like something older than me is gently revealing itself through the surface. When you look at this image, I hope you feel invited into that same stillness. A pause. A remembering. A sense that you, too, are more than one layer — and that beneath the surface, something calm and ancient is always present.
In this image, I am very still. Not performing, not reaching — just present. The glass doesn’t hide me; it holds me. Behind the veil of enamel and colour, I feel calm and grounded, as if I am meeting myself in a quiet, sacred space.
Traditionally, portraits of artists in Western art show the artist as a kind of heroic individual — the one in control, the one observing the world. Here, I’m not standing outside of anything. I’m inside the reflection. I’m both the one looking and the one being seen.
The glass becomes a threshold rather than a barrier. It feels ancestral — like something older than me is gently revealing itself through the surface. When you look at this image, I hope you feel invited into that same stillness. A pause. A remembering. A sense that you, too, are more than one layer — and that beneath the surface, something calm and ancient is always present.
