An Exploration of Light & Shadow

From the Archive: this post was orginally written November 2023

Welcome to the behind the scenes of my first series: The Candlelit Collection.

As I am writing this, it is Dia de Los Muertos. A day to honor those who have passed, often with photos on a candlelit altar. It feels particularly fitting to write about this collection today. When I had the concept for this project late this summer, it was rooted simply in a desire to practice light and shadow. When I finally began painting, the context had changed. There is a heaviness in the world. Typing on my laptop from my cozy bed in my heated apartment, the suffering overseas feels too distant to fathom. This project turned into a way to process.

The symbolism that can be found in the simple concept light and shadow is endless. For me, it's awareness after blindness; knowledge over ignorance. It's a spark of hope in times of deep despair. It's "keeping the candle lit" and showing solidarity. It's honoring those who have passed. It's finding glimmers of joy in times of grief. It's life and death. It's seeking understanding through anger. It's contradiction, cognitive dissonance, good and evil. It's choosing love over violence. It's illuminating and exploring the parts of ourselves we keep hidden. I think of the hospitals in Gaza with no electricity; surgeries lit by candles and the batteries left on mobile phones. I think of the flames burning at night, the bombings. I think of the babies being born into war. I think of book burnings and the suppression of knowledge. I think of the tragedies followed by "thoughts and prayers."I think of the prayer candles at church. I think of my own personal journey with grief and finding a path forward. I sit in gratitude for the privilege of peace. I sit in anger for those it has been stolen from.

I hope for the light at the end of the tunnel.

These thoughts were all swirling in my mind as I pieced together this collection. There is an inherent melancholy in winter, but this impending season feels particularly dark. And yet, there is no peace found in hopelessness. We have to follow the light, so to speak. I am not resolving war crimes with pretty pictures. I am not seeking to create meaning where there is none. I am simply sharing the process behind these pieces and giving insight into what they mean to me today.

Whether we intend to or not, our humanity bleeds into our work. That is the beauty and agony of art. We are not systems, we are not surface level ideas, we are not AI. We are spiritual, emotional beings in a wildly complex world. Art, or at least my art, does not seek to answer life's many questions and contradictions. It is a reflection of life, for better or for worse.