Underwater Danger
Lately, I've realized I don’t quite fit in with most people. I don't mind, though. I prefer the comfort of my home — a quiet space where I can disappear into four-hour Dateline marathons or lose myself in ridiculous podcasts. Solitude feels safe. It’s me, a small room, and canvases far too large for the space they inhabit. Two small dressers overflow with chaos: tubes of paint, countless Posca pens, and the occasional sharp thing that finds my fingers when I reach in too fast. It's cluttered, messy — but it's mine. Last night, I finished this piece. It called to me. I call it Underwater Danger. I can’t swim, so deep water has always unsettled me. The thought of not being able to touch the bottom — that endless, unseen abyss — sends a shiver down my spine. That fear seeped into this painting. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? And deadly. A siren of the deep. She lures you in with a sweet song, a gentle touch, a warm kiss — but it’s not affection you feel. It’s the ...