A 36 x 48-inch canvas at the start using a queen bedsheet, frozen in the stiffened folds of my unrest, transforms a domestic comfort into a rigid topography of trauma. Light charcoal and fabric ink trace the voids where my body once tossed, partially obscuring a drawing of the room where I nearly lost my life. Hardened yarn "nerves" in shades of my ancestry connect these shadows to the space where the knife once met my neck. For days, I marked this visceral clock with a ritual of labor, leaving fingerprints of paint, sweat, and blood to document my continued existence. An integrated audio track of my labored breathing makes the physical toll of my respiratory illness audible, forcing a witness to my body’s struggle. Between the folds lie the ghosts of nightmares and the "what ifs" of a dream where I am safe, loved by two men, and followed by my four black cats. Simone dances on the snow I once hated a quiet witness to a survivor who is no longer a shadow, but a "mess in progress" claiming her future.

Narco-Maii-Leptic Unmasked Divergent

"Unwanted Lover" is a sculpture that serves as a physical archive of fragments of touch. It is a radical act of reclaiming the abused body, transforming it from a site of trauma into a landscape of complex truth. The fingerprints embedded in the surface represent the duality of the skin’s memory: some are the heavy, withering marks of the unwanted, while others capture "yes" moments—aphrodisiac touches that were hot, sexy, and deeply wanted. The form explores the sensory friction between "Stop" and "Don’t stop," between being drowned and being loved.

Through ceramic, glaze, and porcelain, this piece documents the struggle to find a binary in a world of labels, ultimately asserting that a body can hold both the scars of the past and the heat of present desire. It is a vessel for the "No" that was ignored and the "Yes" that was felt, proving that she is still standing, she is still there, and she is a work of art. Unwanted Lover. This sculpture remains fragments of touches. Some consensual, some aphrodisiac, some unconscious, withering, unwanted.

No. I said no. Stop. Don’t stop. Love me. Hate me. Leave me alone. Drown me. Fuck me. Stop it. Stop."

Unwanted Lover

"Wet Floor Dreams: Handle with Nightmares and Caution" is a visual excavation of memory, identity, and the fragile architecture of time. Built upon a chaotic grid of harsh, wet blue lines that echo the rigidity of control, the work fractures into a dreamscape where order collapses under the weight of feeling. At its center, a giant diary becomes both an anchor and an abyss, its pages curling into rivers of semi-gloss cider that flood the canvas like an uncontainable thought. Symbols emerge as surreal witnesses: Yin-Yang fish, a distorted caution sign, and a Sunday glass floating in the cider ocean, all watched by a lingering eye marked with lashes of years—an anatomy of perception and mortality. This piece is a living map of inner cartographies, a meditation on the tension between masking and unmasking, the ache of seasons, and the relentless pull of time. The background is composed of smaller works on paper, printed onto the large canvas, creating a layered history upon which the final elements are built.

Wet Floor Dreams: Handle with Nightmares and Caution (Sold to a Psychiatrist at Douglas Institute in a Therapeutic Environment)

All states exist at once: the controlled persona, the breaking persona, the persona that refuses containment. The instability is the point.

Identity is not a binary.

It is not either/or.

It is layered, contradictory, shifting.

A persona is not one face—it is a stack of conflicting broadcasts.

A curated persona attempts to follow the algorithm, but its layered nature refuses to stay singular or compliant.

Persona: System Error — Broadcast Me / Break Me

“Decaying Silence: Bathing in Death” is a visceral mental health relic—a warning, an educative moment, and a direct flashback to the years when depression was an anchor, a daily fight, and a noose around my neck. The work seeks to externalize the internal topography of a mind struggling under the weight of mental illness.

The piece centers on a persona who, as a neurodivergent individual, performs the exhausting ritual of masking to fit in and remains invisible in the outside world. Only at the end of a long day, in the isolating silence of their dark house, do they allow themselves the vulnerability of unmasking as they remove their clothes and step into the bath. This moment of temporary cessation is the project’s core theme: the Swamp of depression.

As the persona lays bare, their anxieties, wounds, trauma, and PTSD come rushing back, forming a tidal wave of negative energy. This emotional flood is rendered as a composition of mold and rot in various textures, colors, and abstract forms, creeping around and consuming the scene. The visual decay—rotten oranges, decaying flowers, encroaching slime—is a direct manifestation of the mind's internal rot, the endless loop of self-hatred, and the memories of judging eyes that necessitate the daily mask. The darkness eventually consumes the figure, causing them to visually melt, dissolve, and combine with the toxic environment. Yet, in the midst of the decay, a beautiful flower emerges, demonstrating a possibility, a way out, a chance to confront the swamp of demons, not merely succumb to them.

Decaying Silence: Bathing in Death

**A Visceral Archive of Emotion** _Indescribable Manifestation_ operates not merely as an abstract painting, but as a topography of survival. Erupting from a distressed, obsidian background, a magma-like surge of fiery reds, oranges, and golds commands the canvas. The stark dichotomy between the consuming darkness and the luminous, untamed energy challenges the viewer to confront the overwhelming power of uncontainable emotion. It is a visual record of a psychological breaking point transformed into an act of creation.

**Confronting the Void** At its conceptual core, the work excavates the profound, echoing pain of the "void"—the specific, heavy absence left by a lack of parental affection and the enduring scars of abandonment and abusive dynamics. By materializing this invisible trauma, the painting transforms the struggle for self-love into a tangible, primal force. The searing palette refuses to be silenced, representing the burning desire to reclaim one’s own space and identity from the shadows of neglect.

**The Physicality of Survival** The raw, sweeping gestures across the canvas reject traditional form in favor of pure, instinctual movement. Most arresting are the stark handprints embedded within the chaos. These are not merely compositional elements; they are frantic, desperate assertions of existence. They serve as a literal grounding of the artist’s body into the work—a physical grasp for reality and presence when navigating the disorienting landscape of emotional erasure.

**A Pivotal Artistic Anchor** As an early and vital anchor in the artist's career, _Indescribable Manifestation_ bridges raw expressionism with intimate psychological excavation. It captures a fleeting, violent moment of emotional clarity, standing as a testament to the resilience required to forge a self-determined identity out of the ashes of trauma.

Indescribable Manifestation

Acrylic on Canvas + Ink and Oils/Pastel

My artwork, "Montreal: Serial Concerto," is a rollercoaster of sensorial emotions and a guiding compass to life. The title is chosen for its sensorial and compositional depth, encapsulating the city's spirit: the "Concerto" represents the multitude of individual voices, experiences, and cultural movements that harmonize to create Montreal's unique sound, while "Serial" speaks to the constant, rhythmic, and sequential movement of life, like the metro lines, the passing seasons, and the collective pulse of its inhabitants.

This concept directly addresses the contest theme of Montréal, un coeur vibrant by portraying the city as a living organism, pulsing to the rhythm of its diverse neighborhoods. The metro stations and the series of movements described are a visible manifestation of a city that forever moves.

The Human Pulse

For many years, I’ve been confused of what I wanted from life, what life wanted from me, why do I exist, and why was I created when it mostly feels like a burden. In a world where mass media is scary and people are scary; I turn to art as we all do. Art is a way to shift perspectives, not really to escape but to notice the smaller details, the good days, the nice smell, the day where the sun was warm and crisp. The city itself became a canvas for this shift. I found humor and intrigue in asking strangers to write a single word or phrase that Montreal invokes within them. This was my attempt to make the project a collaborative effort with humans walking in this imperfect but passionate city.

I think somehow after COVID we all became numb; we all had to grieve. For some of us, it was a gift of discovery, while for others, it was a period of grieving and loss of life. I thought at one point the city’s heart had died off. But in between the nine kilometers and three hours I held this heavy painting and my marker getting the courage with my social anxiety to speak to strangers and ask them to write on my painting, I somehow at the end of the night felt full, overwhelmed by the kindness, by the light I saw in people’s faces by their creativity and passion. Suddenly, my numbness went away, and I fell in love with Montreal like I did when I first met it six years ago. That feeling wasn't just a memory, it was a full-body sensory shock, a profound spiritual reawakening. It mirrored the raw, visceral feeling I had when I first got onto a plane last year, the terrifying, exhilarating moment of lift-off and seeing the world shift beneath me. It was the same thrilling rush I felt when I saw New York for the first time on my own, facing a massive, unknown city and feeling utterly alive. Holding that heavy canvas, speaking to strangers, and absorbing their light, the city shed its gray shroud and became brilliant again. The kindness and passion I encountered were the jet fuel, the sheer altitude, and the overwhelming energy that banished the emotional void of the post-COVID years, proving that Montreal truly possesses that je ne sais pas quoi—a boundless spirit that ignites my own.

Paying Tribute to the Underground

The Montreal Metro is Narnia's closet—a magical, smelly, subterranean conduit where all sorts of spirits travel together. It is a temporary pause, surrounded by the breeze, people laughing, crying, and simply living. The metro is people; it’s a place where communities converge.

My painting captures this underground life:

The Canvas as a Station: The artwork uses the canvas as a metro station, with each window representing a seasonal feeling through evocative colors.

The Sensorial City: Inside one car window, I painted florals and plants, reflecting the city’s deep commitment to living organisms and the desire for nature to reclaim space in an urban setting.

The Ironic Landscape: I included construction symbols on the train, a nod to their ironically overwhelming yet iconic presence that is undeniably "Montréal" in its own way.

The Souls: Two windows feature abstract figures that represent souls, intentionally undefined by gender or race, symbolizing our city of culture and people living together in harmony.

The Narnia Door: The open doors of the train transport the viewer into a recognizable architectural icon: the Stade Olympique, a monumental symbol that grounds this journey in Montreal.

The Tingle of Arrival: The final window depicts Sherbrooke station. Hearing that name just before Berri-UQAM creates a tingly excitement for downtown—that final door in Narnia’s closet leading to your destination.

This is my practice: humans exploring human nature, the mind, the psyche, the trauma, and the wounds—the good and the bad of the entire human experience. This is what I’ll continue to create until my candle wick stops burning and my candle wax is no more.

Connecting to the Future

This piece exemplifies my long-term artistic practice. If selected for this contest, the support will help me fund my larger artistic, research, and exploration project on mental health for queer and neurodivergent individuals —a novella and exhibition titled "FLORA: Archives des Fleurs, Je Me Souviens". I believe that in a world shaken by fear, violence, and darkness, we must continue to be the light as artists, providing an embrace of warmth, unafraid to also be the darkness to see beyond, to educate and inform, to break down borders and face inner demons.

Montreal: Serial Concerto

My artwork, "Montreal: Serial Concerto," is a rollercoaster of sensorial emotions and a guiding compass to life. The title is chosen for its sensorial and compositional depth, encapsulating the city's spirit: the "Concerto" represents the multitude of individual voices, experiences, and cultural movements that harmonize to create Montreal's unique sound, while "Serial" speaks to the constant, rhythmic, and sequential movement of life, like the metro lines, the passing seasons, and the collective pulse of its inhabitants.

This concept directly addresses the contest theme of Montréal, un coeur vibrant by portraying the city as a living organism, pulsing to the rhythm of its diverse neighborhoods. The metro stations and the series of movements described are a visible manifestation of a city that forever moves.

The Human Pulse

For many years, I’ve been confused of what I wanted from life, what life wanted from me, why do I exist, and why was I created when it mostly feels like a burden. In a world where mass media is scary and people are scary; I turn to art as we all do. Art is a way to shift perspectives, not really to escape but to notice the smaller details, the good days, the nice smell, the day where the sun was warm and crisp. The city itself became a canvas for this shift. I found humor and intrigue in asking strangers to write a single word or phrase that Montreal invokes within them. This was my attempt to make the project a collaborative effort with humans walking in this imperfect but passionate city.

I think somehow after COVID we all became numb; we all had to grieve. For some of us, it was a gift of discovery, while for others, it was a period of grieving and loss of life. I thought at one point the city’s heart had died off. But in between the nine kilometers and three hours I held this heavy painting and my marker getting the courage with my social anxiety to speak to strangers and ask them to write on my painting, I somehow at the end of the night felt full, overwhelmed by the kindness, by the light I saw in people’s faces by their creativity and passion. Suddenly, my numbness went away, and I fell in love with Montreal like I did when I first met it six years ago. That feeling wasn't just a memory, it was a full-body sensory shock, a profound spiritual reawakening. It mirrored the raw, visceral feeling I had when I first got onto a plane last year, the terrifying, exhilarating moment of lift-off and seeing the world shift beneath me. It was the same thrilling rush I felt when I saw New York for the first time on my own, facing a massive, unknown city and feeling utterly alive. Holding that heavy canvas, speaking to strangers, and absorbing their light, the city shed its gray shroud and became brilliant again. The kindness and passion I encountered were the jet fuel, the sheer altitude, and the overwhelming energy that banished the emotional void of the post-COVID years, proving that Montreal truly possesses that je ne sais pas quoi—a boundless spirit that ignites my own.

Paying Tribute to the Underground

The Montreal Metro is Narnia's closet—a magical, smelly, subterranean conduit where all sorts of spirits travel together. It is a temporary pause, surrounded by the breeze, people laughing, crying, and simply living. The metro is people; it’s a place where communities converge.

My painting captures this underground life:

The Canvas as a Station: The artwork uses the canvas as a metro station, with each window representing a seasonal feeling through evocative colors.

The Sensorial City: Inside one car window, I painted florals and plants, reflecting the city’s deep commitment to living organisms and the desire for nature to reclaim space in an urban setting.

The Ironic Landscape: I included construction symbols on the train, a nod to their ironically overwhelming yet iconic presence that is undeniably "Montréal" in its own way.

The Souls: Two windows feature abstract figures that represent souls, intentionally undefined by gender or race, symbolizing our city of culture and people living together in harmony.

The Narnia Door: The open doors of the train transport the viewer into a recognizable architectural icon: the Stade Olympique, a monumental symbol that grounds this journey in Montreal.

The Tingle of Arrival: The final window depicts Sherbrooke station. Hearing that name just before Berri-UQAM creates a tingly excitement for downtown—that final door in Narnia’s closet leading to your destination.

This is my practice: humans exploring human nature, the mind, the psyche, the trauma, and the wounds—the good and the bad of the entire human experience. This is what I’ll continue to create until my candle wick stops burning and my candle wax is no more.

Connecting to the Future

This piece exemplifies my long-term artistic practice. If selected for this contest, the support will help me fund my larger artistic, research, and exploration project on mental health for queer and neurodivergent individuals —a novella and exhibition titled "FLORA: Archives des Fleurs, Je Me Souviens". I believe that in a world shaken by fear, violence, and darkness, we must continue to be the light as artists, providing an embrace of warmth, unafraid to also be the darkness to see beyond, to educate and inform, to break down borders and face inner demons.

(Entered at STM Prochain Station by Astral Art Contest, rejected)  
.

Acrylic on Canvas + Ink and Oils/Pastel  
.  
My artwork, "Montreal: Serial Concerto," is a rollercoaster of sensorial emotions and a guiding compass to life. The title is chosen for its sensorial and compositional depth, encapsulating the city's spirit: the "Concerto" represents the multitude of individual voices, experiences, and cultural movements that harmonize to create Montreal's unique sound, while "Serial" speaks to the constant, rhythmic, and sequential movement of life, like the metro lines, the passing seasons, and the collective pulse of its inhabitants.

This concept directly addresses the contest theme of Montréal, un coeur vibrant by portraying the city as a living organism, pulsing to the rhythm of its diverse neighborhoods. The metro stations and the series of movements described are a visible manifestation of a city that forever moves.

The Human Pulse

For many years, I’ve been confused of what I wanted from life, what life wanted from me, why do I exist, and why was I created when it mostly feels like a burden. In a world where mass media is scary and people are scary; I turn to art as we all do. Art is a way to shift perspectives, not really to escape but to notice the smaller details, the good days, the nice smell, the day where the sun was warm and crisp. The city itself became a canvas for this shift. I found humor and intrigue in asking strangers to write a single word or phrase that Montreal invokes within them. This was my attempt to make the project a collaborative effort with humans walking in this imperfect but passionate city.

I think somehow after COVID we all became numb; we all had to grieve. For some of us, it was a gift of discovery, while for others, it was a period of grieving and loss of life. I thought at one point the city’s heart had died off. But in between the nine kilometers and three hours I held this heavy painting and my marker getting the courage with my social anxiety to speak to strangers and ask them to write on my painting, I somehow at the end of the night felt full, overwhelmed by the kindness, by the light I saw in people’s faces by their creativity and passion. Suddenly, my numbness went away, and I fell in love with Montreal like I did when I first met it six years ago. That feeling wasn't just a memory, it was a full-body sensory shock, a profound spiritual reawakening. It mirrored the raw, visceral feeling I had when I first got onto a plane last year, the terrifying, exhilarating moment of lift-off and seeing the world shift beneath me. It was the same thrilling rush I felt when I saw New York for the first time on my own, facing a massive, unknown city and feeling utterly alive. Holding that heavy canvas, speaking to strangers, and absorbing their light, the city shed its gray shroud and became brilliant again. The kindness and passion I encountered were the jet fuel, the sheer altitude, and the overwhelming energy that banished the emotional void of the post-COVID years, proving that Montreal truly possesses that je ne sais pas quoi—a boundless spirit that ignites my own.

Paying Tribute to the Underground

The Montreal Metro is Narnia's closet—a magical, smelly, subterranean conduit where all sorts of spirits travel together. It is a temporary pause, surrounded by the breeze, people laughing, crying, and simply living. The metro is people; it’s a place where communities converge.

My painting captures this underground life:

The Canvas as a Station: The artwork uses the canvas as a metro station, with each window representing a seasonal feeling through evocative colors.

The Sensorial City: Inside one car window, I painted florals and plants, reflecting the city’s deep commitment to living organisms and the desire for nature to reclaim space in an urban setting.

The Ironic Landscape: I included construction symbols on the train, a nod to their ironically overwhelming yet iconic presence that is undeniably "Montréal" in its own way.

The Souls: Two windows feature abstract figures that represent souls, intentionally undefined by gender or race, symbolizing our city of culture and people living together in harmony.

The Narnia Door: The open doors of the train transport the viewer into a recognizable architectural icon: the Stade Olympique, a monumental symbol that grounds this journey in Montreal.

The Tingle of Arrival: The final window depicts Sherbrooke station. Hearing that name just before Berri-UQAM creates a tingly excitement for downtown—that final door in Narnia’s closet leading to your destination.

This is my practice: humans exploring human nature, the mind, the psyche, the trauma, and the wounds—the good and the bad of the entire human experience. This is what I’ll continue to create until my candle wick stops burning and my candle wax is no more.

Connecting to the Future

This piece exemplifies my long-term artistic practice. If selected for this contest, the support will help me fund my larger artistic, research, and exploration project on mental health for queer and neurodivergent individuals —a novella and exhibition titled "FLORA: Archives des Fleurs, Je Me Souviens". I believe that in a world shaken by fear, violence, and darkness, we must continue to be the light as artists, providing an embrace of warmth, unafraid to also be the darkness to see beyond, to educate and inform, to break down borders and face inner demons.

Mixed media painting on plywood. 48 by 60 inches  
  
**Wagaya (Our Home, Ma Maison, Mi Casa, Home)**:

This artwork explores the concept of "home" not as a physical location, but as a deeply rooted state of being achieved through profound human connection.

**Vulnerability and Courage** At the heart of the painting is a central figure depicted as a demon with an exposed stomach. This imagery serves as a powerful symbol of raw vulnerability, highlighting the immense courage required to lay bare one's deepest fears, flaws, and dreams to another person.

**The Internal Landscape** Surrounding this central embrace is a complex internal landscape made up of flora, contrasting the delicate with the wild. Woven into the composition are faint inscriptions of words like "grace" and "demons," mapping out a deeply personal journey of self-discovery and acceptance.

**A Sanctuary of Acceptance** Ultimately, the piece acts as a visual manifestation of the longing for transformative love. It illustrates the desire to find a sanctuary of mutual acceptance—a true home—where even one's inner demons are allowed to rest and find peace.

Wagaya (Our Home in Japanese)

This piece captures the overwhelming and often isolating experience of confronting one’s own fractured identity. At first glance, the stark contrast in scale between the small, solitary figure and the massive, looming mirror immediately establishes a sense of vulnerability. The mirror does not offer a faithful, singular reflection; instead, it becomes a canvas for the mind, reflecting a crowded gallery of disjointed faces.

**The Multiplicity of the Self** The various faces suspended within the glass represent the fragmented nature of selfhood and the protective masks we construct to navigate the world. Some faces appear weary, others vigilant or impassive. They are the different personas we project—the faces we wear to survive, to belong, or to hide. The sheer size of these reflections suggests how heavy and all-consuming these internal personas can become, dwarfing the physical reality of the person standing before them.

**Mirroring the Internal Landscape** By distorting traditional perspective, the artwork visualizes the "mirroring" of internal emotional states. The glass acts less as a physical boundary and more as a psychological portal. It illustrates the exhausting reality of carrying multiple emotional truths at once, challenging the viewer to recognize that what happens beneath the surface is often far larger and more complex than what is visible on the outside.

**A Portal for the Isolated** Ultimately, the piece serves as an anchor for those who feel unseen. By rendering the invisible weight of self-perception into something tangible and profound, the drawing acts as a mirror for the viewer as well. It asks us to look past surface reality and acknowledge the deep, complex humanity within ourselves—reminding those who feel isolated that their internal multitudes, masks and all, are a valid and beautifully complex part of the human experience.

Mirrors Perception (Framed)

Graphite, Charcoal, Ink on paper. 18 by 24 inches

Momento Manifesto (Framed)

Mirrors Perception 02 (Framed)

Created in 2023, the piece is rendered in graphite, charcoal, and ink on paper, and measures 18 by 24 inches.

Inspired by Mahmoud Darwish's poetic work, _The Butterfly's Burden_, the project uses the butterfly as a central metaphor for identity, exile, and transformation. Through an experimental process of exploring shapes, forms, and patterns, the work culminates in a large-scale print of a human portrait bending and morphing with butterfly wings.

Conceptually, the piece navigates the human psyche and the spiritual dimensions of identity through three distinct stages of emotional processing: Sensation, Perception, and Comprehension. It explores the human search for wisdom through lived experience. Ultimately, the visual narrative serves as a visceral representation of growth that transcends societal constraints, capturing an acceptance of self-perception and the journey toward spiritual balance.

Humania Burdened Chrysalis

**L'horloge qui tourne | Contemporary Expressionistic Semi Figurative Painting**

Acrylic on canvas

24 X 36 inches  
  
"L'horloge qui tourne" resonates with my emotions, depicting me as a constant contrast in motion. Friendships shifted like the hands of a clock, witnessing my closest friend falling for someone else, leaving me with a heavy heart. Despite my grandma's reluctance to see me when I came out to her, she still sends me good morning texts, a reminder of the loneliness that comes with being myself, being queer, time ticks/tocks away.

L'horloge qui tourne

Acrylic & Canvas 30 X 40 Inches  
  
This work confronts the tension between silence and expression, mapping the psychological weight of internalized voices. A spectral figure dominates the composition, rendered in layered strokes of white and gray against a stark black ground. Its form appears eroded, dissolving into the surrounding void, evoking fragility and impermanence.  
  
Across the canvas, handwritten text spirals outward like murmurs—on one side, phrases of suppression (“shh,” “you’re mine,” “mute”) drift in fragmented lines, while on the other, declarations of defiance (“I am not silent,” “I will speak”) radiate in vivid yellow. At the center, a golden mark seals the mouth, a striking symbol of imposed quietude and resistance intertwined.  
  
The interplay of texture and color—abrasive whites, luminous gold, and scattered yellow fragments—creates a visceral rhythm, echoing the chaos of thought and the struggle for voice. Voices becomes a visual manifesto on autonomy and survival, exposing the invisible battle between imposed silence and the urgent need to reclaim speech.

Voices

**(Sold to a Psychiatrist at Douglas Institute in a Therapeutic Environment Version 1; more versions to come) 2024**

_Acrylic & Ink/Sharpie on Canvas 24 inches X 36 inches_

Twenty-four years etched in paint. Each brushstroke a testament to the abandonment, the trauma, the grief that shaped me. A sibling, robbed of a chance to be the brother I yearned for, a victim of my grandfather's cruelty. In the emotional wasteland of my family, I searched for solace, finding only fleeting moments with strangers, ultimately abandoned for the intensity of my emotions—a burden they couldn't bear. Yet, in this chaos, I have found my own sanctuary: the shattered yet resilient porcelain doll. A reflection of my fractured self, but also a symbol of the strength I have forged from the fragments. Those fragments became therapy to me; the holes began to have a sense of meaning. Letting go of the words and facing the pain allowed me to gain power over my trauma, and with time, with every brushstroke, I began to heal. Caroline is another spirit of myself. Caroline is the healer, the therapist, the reassurer, and my conscience, the wall that allows myself to vent onto her skin, her fabric., she sacrifices her life for me to survive, she allows herself the canvas/entity of myself to passage through my trauma, to educate, to understand, to process and to start healing.

Caroline My Trauma

(Sold to a Psychiatrist at Douglas Institute in a Therapeutic Environment)

Acrylic, real objects (Band-Aids) and ink on Canvas. 76 X 51 CM

Cupid is Dying

Acrylic, real objects (broken wine glass) on Canvas.

For this piece I will not write a description, I will however share one viewers perspective of this painting:

In Maii’s work, “untitled,” the deviation that interests me most is in its approach to narrative and, to an extent, authorial intent. Maii explained in their description of the work that normally, they deliberately infuse their paintings with narrative and emotional meaning. Their deviation here, then, is in refraining from this practice: “untitled” has no explicitly declared meaning. Maii may not have painted this work with an intention or meaning in mind, but the result is anything but meaningless. Instead, the slight withdrawal of explicit authorial intent opens space for unexpected, serendipitous interpretation.  
  
Before going any further, I want to quickly set out by saying that I don’t mean to imply that just because an artist infuses a work with meaning, the work is suddenly closed down for interpretation. It’s not as though one sees a work in a gallery, immediately comprehends its meaning, and then turns their brain off, accepting that interpretation at the exclusion of all others. Most work has a healthy amount of ambiguity in it, and that ambiguity leaves room for interpretation. As is, I believe, the case with Maii’s other work. While they have previously assigned narrative to their works, I don’t see this as a closing down of meaning.  
  
I do believe, however, that setting out with the intention of making something without an explicit message has opened possibilities for meaning-making both for the artist, Maii, and viewers of “untitled.” By stipulating that they work this way, Maii may turn more to spontaneity and instinct. Upon executing their instincts and reflecting on the work, they too discover meaning in the work, likely in unexpected ways previously inaccessible to the artist.  
  
For the viewer, hearing that a work ‘has no meaning’ kicks their interpretive brain into overdrive. Even when a work ‘has a meaning,’ viewers still tend to yield their own interpretations, but those interpretations are often validated relative to the artist’s own declared meaning for the work, or the meaning at which critical consensus arrives. Interpretations too far away from the center are disregarded. By saying, however, that a work ‘has no meaning,’ that process of validation dissolves. Viewers become radically open to entertaining any interpretation they might come across, broadly expanding the scope of possible meaning for a work.  
  
This de-centering of authorial intent let me relate to the work in a very abstract way. I asked myself not if I related to the story being told, but if, somehow, the marks (and wine glass) on the canvas spoke to my experience. By attaching no words to the work, Maii prompted me to look for meaning that could not be expressed by words. I found this process deeply enriching.  
  
Maii, your deviation in not assigning meaning to your work, paired with incredibly expressive form, prompted me to consider interpretations I otherwise could not have, and spoke in a way which is inaccessible by words. Thank you.

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Maii Michaella Fallara

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