A Place of Reflection
The Living Gallery of Feeling
From Ruin, a Reckoning
From Reckoning, a Bloom
"This first piece is a memory– part ancient, part machine. It reveals a hidden old world, half forgotten beneath layers of rust and rhythm. Animals move through yellow and purple waters, not polluted, but reactive–alive with feeling. There's a layer of anger here, not rage but pressure–the kind that comes before a bloom.
From that emotional soil, a boisterous flower erupts, wild and unapologetic. Its petal shout, but its roots whisper stories–deeply connected, impossibly ancient. This piece is about what grows when emotion is not silenced, but allowed to compost into beauty."
Jacob's Ladder (Descent Before Ascent)
This textured piece echoes the raw terrain of inner transformation. Layers upon layers–scratched, raised, and weathered–trace the soul's journey through Jacob's ladder, not linear ascent, but in sacred pause.
A radiant sun hangs above, bright and seductive, symbolizing illumination–but not yet the Source. The true source, the artwork reveals, dwells beneath: a velvety, fertile darkness where even the sun is born.
There is sadness here, not from failure, but from the wisdom that knows there is more to face, more to unearth, more to feel. Yet, nothing is out of place. The sorrow is sanctified. The waiting is holy. The unseen steps are forming.
This is the moment before movement. The inhale before rebirth. The art honors it all.
Sacred Vortex (Behind the Sun/Son)
This is the portal beyond what the eyes can hold. No physical texture marks the surface–yet its depth is infinite. Layers of airy transparency swirl from every direction, whispering truths the mind cannot grasp.
This piece is a vortex, a threshold, the sacred center behind the sun… and the son. A space where light is not emitted, but remembered.
To gaze upon it is to be invited into surrender. It does not ask to be understood–only felt. In its presence, the viewer may find a quiet unraveling. A soft letting go.
The Burning Heart (Sister of the Vortex)
This is not a heart on fire–it is a heart in alchemy. The burning is not destruction, but transformation. This piece reveals the sacred process of becoming: where the very frequencies that once wounded now become fuel for opening.
Born beside the vortex, this heart learned to wall itself off for protection. But now, through a holy reversal, it is dissolving the wall–not spite of the pain, but because of it.
The textures here are invisible but undeniable. What you see is only a flicker os what is happening within. The burning is precise, guided, holy. This is the heat of healing. The heart has chosen to open.
The Eye, The Path, The Portal (Self Rendition)
At first glance, this is a sacred rendering of the artist's own vagina–an intimate and raw reflection. Yet what emerges goes far beyond anatomy. The form blurs into symbol: part eye, part path, part cosmic gate.
Viewed horizontally, it pulses with sensuality and grounded creation. Viewed vertically, it becomes an eye of knowing–a threshold between dimensions.
This piece refuses singular meaning. It is the original temple, the first wound, the eternal way in. It is vulnerability and vision, origin and omen.
The viewer is not asked to define it,
only to witness it–from all sides.
Fractal Crucifixion (The geometry of Christ)
This is not Jesus as you've seen him before. This is the story turned inside out. A geometric rendering of Christ anchors the piece–not as a man on a cross, but as a sacred shape at the center of all becoming.
The trees, typically behind him in the traditional scene, are painted in front–reminding us that nature always stood witness, not behind, but before. And before them all, a rainbow vortex spins: the original Source where the story of Christ fragmented into infinite refracted truths.
Here, the crucifixion is not an end or a sacrifice, but a prism. The one story seen through many lights. The body, the tree, the rainbow–all merge into a cosmic code, inviting the viewer to perceive from within, not without.
This piece is not for the eye alone–it is for the inner sight.
The Boat with a Hole
(Trustfall to the Crystal City)
A purple gorilla with red lips–absurd, divine–appears and beckons. You follow. At the water's edge, an impossible boat with a gaping hole waits. logic resists. Fear screams. But a voice beyond reason–your higher self–commands: "Get in the boat."
You obey.
The boat sinks.
And beneath the drowning is wonder: a gleaming crystal city, radiant with unspeakable beauty. The fear that led you there? Now holy. the plunge, the absurdity, the surrender–it was always the way in.
This piece holds the sacred joke, the terrifying trust, and the reward of saying yes to the unknown. Let it remind you: sometimes the hole is the way through.
Feathers on Fire
This piece emerges from the threshold where Christ and the Dark One meet–not in battle, but in mutual recognition. It is forged in flame, shadow, and grief long buried. With scorched wings, it rises–not in triumph, but in truth.
A flight toward safety, weary yet willing. The sadness it carries is ancient and holy, not seeking to be fixed but witnessed. In being seen, it becomes light enough to lift. This is the art of reclamation–the moment sorrow speaks and is finally heard.
The Whales Eye
At first, it hides–veiled by the cosmos, bursting into color to distract the gaze. But the eye longs to be known. So I pressed through the layers, and it answered with an explosion of presence–a silence, sacred unveiling.
In its truest form, the eye is ancient and soft, encircled by mossy green algae and kissed by the golden light of a sun seen only through water's mirror. It is memory submerged. Vision through stillness. The great witness beneath all waves..
God's Hand
Suspended above animated waters, the hand of God releases rays of purple, red, and white–sacred frequencies in motion. What begins as light becomes form: a crystalline diamond, floating in a golden sky.
The wind stirs the storm overhead, painting it in green hues–an alchemy of change. Below, a mirror world emerges, illuminated by the sun's gaze. In this layered reflection, all dimensions live together–not in conflict, but in harmony. This is creation witnessing itself, over and over again.
The Brown Dog
Not a dog, but a symbol. A being clocked in charm, using softness as camouflage for the sorrow they hide. The image is blurred–seen through water–a veil of emotion that both shields and isolates.
This is the child of the original mother wound, still echoing through the soul. Separation shaped them; charm became their armor. The world sees sweetness, but beneath it lies the ache of disconnection, the longing to be touched without needing to be touched without needing to preform.
A portrait of pain disguised as poise.
Below the image is seen through the eyes of the sun. This highlights the areas where emptiness sits.
Echoes of the Unowned
This one lives close to the bone–frog medicine in a vortex of light and fire. The purge is sacred. It is drowning. Yet it remains–held within the swirling tension of the Sun and the Son, of transformation and distortion.
Below, the light breaks through. The frog's face shifts–unexpectedly–into the expression of a surprised monkey. A trick of the vortex. A trick of perception. The world loves the monkey–its play, its dance–but the frog was never meant to be owned, and neither is the monkey.
This is not the end.
This haunting continues.
The liberation has only just begun.