A story about having an open heart
They wear their hearts on the outside, the way you only can when nothing has ever taught you to hide it.
There is a gaze that watches over them, steady and unhurried. The kind you stop noticing after a while, because it's just always there.
Trust is something they just know. Nobody had to teach it to them. It was simply true from the start, the way some things are.
So they stay open. Hearts out, eyes soft, certain. In the quiet, unremarkable way you're certain that they will always be okay. Not because nothing bad could happen. Just because whatever does, they'll face it together.
Acrylic, coloured pencil and wax pastel on timber panel, 20 × 25 × 4cm
A story about having an open heart
They wear their hearts on the outside, the way you only can when nothing has ever taught you to hide it.
There is a gaze that watches over them, steady and unhurried. The kind you stop noticing after a while, because it's just always there.
Trust is something they just know. Nobody had to teach it to them. It was simply true from the start, the way some things are.
So they stay open. Hearts out, eyes soft, certain. In the quiet, unremarkable way you're certain that they will always be okay. Not because nothing bad could happen. Just because whatever does, they'll face it together.
Acrylic, coloured pencil and wax pastel on timber panel, 20 × 25 × 4cm
