A Symphony of My Favourite Things
I wanted to create a piece that felt entirely mine, so I surrounded myself with the aesthetics that bring me the most comfort and joy.
First, there is the colour palette. I have always found emerald green to be a deeply emotive, almost magical colour. It hums with life and mystery. Contrast that with the profound depth of black — which I believe contains all colours — and you have the perfect, striking backdrop for the story I want to tell. Then, there are the birds. The crow has been my favorite animal for as long as I can remember. They are intelligent, misunderstood, and carry a certain gothic elegance. Having a murder of them flocking around this girl felt essential; they are her familiars, her silent companions. At the centre of this world is a lone feminine goth girl. In many ways, this is a self-portrait of how I navigate the world.
We live in a society that often demands we perform specific roles just to fit in. I think many of us, especially those of us who are naturally introverted or walk a slightly different path, know what it's like to feel as though you are on the outside looking in. The mask she holds on a stick is a symbol of that performance — the costume we wear for the world when we feel we don't quite belong. However, the message isn't one of sadness. Look closely at her face. She is not mournful. She is composed, calm, and centered. This piece is a celebration of solitude. It's about owning your own company and realizing that you don't need a “best friend” or a crowd to feel whole.
By choice, she is not lonely. She is solitary. There is a profound strength in being able to look at the world, acknowledge you are different, and be perfectly content with who you are. The final element of the mask is the ribbon, which drapes down, almost like a tear, but also like a pathway from the performance of fitting in to the quiet truth of her own existence.
I hope when you look at this image, you feel the calm, the colour, and the strength of embracing the outsider within.
