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Connor charring the Shou Sugi Ban frame for this piece.
There are seasons where silence thickens into cement—where each day stretches and dissolves in slow motion inside a mold set with intention for the final form you are expected to take. May felt like one of those long stretches. A time when the world outside felt too sharp, too demanding, too full of mirrors I wasn’t ready to face. I curled inward. Said no to risk. No to growth. I built rituals around retreat and called them self-care. But comfort, left unchecked, becomes confinement. This painting is a freeze-frame of that internal stalemate—where desire and fear meet in the dim hallway of what’s known. The white veil of safety layered over the restless soil of something red, raw, charred, and waiting.