Glimpses of Light
20 × 20 Original mixed media, oil painting on gallery wrapped canvas.
A woman sits blindfolded, by choice. She has turned inward, wrapped in the quiet hush of her own darkness. In this sacred space of forgetting, she has lost the memory of her power, her voice, her light. She has listened too long to the echoes of a world that told her who to be, and in doing so, she’s forgotten who she is.
But the light has not left her.
It lingers—softly, patiently—dancing at the edges of her awareness.
She can feel it, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the surface.
She catches glimpses.
Flickers.
Whispers.
This painting is a moment suspended in the in-between: the descent into shadow, and the quiet awakening that follows. It honors the part of the journey where she learns to love even the lost parts of herself. She does not rush. She does not fight. She surrenders to the dark to remember her own brilliance. And in that surrender, she begins to see.
Because she knows…there is more. There is always more.
20 × 20 Original mixed media, oil painting on gallery wrapped canvas.
A woman sits blindfolded, by choice. She has turned inward, wrapped in the quiet hush of her own darkness. In this sacred space of forgetting, she has lost the memory of her power, her voice, her light. She has listened too long to the echoes of a world that told her who to be, and in doing so, she’s forgotten who she is.
But the light has not left her.
It lingers—softly, patiently—dancing at the edges of her awareness.
She can feel it, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the surface.
She catches glimpses.
Flickers.
Whispers.
This painting is a moment suspended in the in-between: the descent into shadow, and the quiet awakening that follows. It honors the part of the journey where she learns to love even the lost parts of herself. She does not rush. She does not fight. She surrenders to the dark to remember her own brilliance. And in that surrender, she begins to see.
Because she knows…there is more. There is always more.
20 × 20 Original mixed media, oil painting on gallery wrapped canvas.
A woman sits blindfolded, by choice. She has turned inward, wrapped in the quiet hush of her own darkness. In this sacred space of forgetting, she has lost the memory of her power, her voice, her light. She has listened too long to the echoes of a world that told her who to be, and in doing so, she’s forgotten who she is.
But the light has not left her.
It lingers—softly, patiently—dancing at the edges of her awareness.
She can feel it, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the surface.
She catches glimpses.
Flickers.
Whispers.
This painting is a moment suspended in the in-between: the descent into shadow, and the quiet awakening that follows. It honors the part of the journey where she learns to love even the lost parts of herself. She does not rush. She does not fight. She surrenders to the dark to remember her own brilliance. And in that surrender, she begins to see.
Because she knows…there is more. There is always more.