Held

17 × 56 cm mixed media on wood panel. A single dark thread down a quiet cream ground, like a breath being held.

Part of Weathering, a collection that treats weather as a mirror for what a person moves through: betrayal, loss, the quiet accumulation of everyday grief, and the slow, unhurried work of coming back to stillness after. Each panel is built up in texture and pigment, then left to erode, bloom, and settle on its own terms, the way rust doesn't apologize for spreading and salt doesn't ask if it's welcome. What's left behind is rarely ruin. It's texture, history, a kind of hard-won beauty that couldn't exist without the damage that preceded it.