In the Pink: A Moment of Relief
When I look back over my work across the years, I begin to notice a quiet pattern.
Among the more contemplative, moody figures—those layered, introspective pieces—there are moments where something else appears. Brighter works. More playful compositions. Paintings that seem to arrive with a different kind of energy.
Almost like a release.
In the Pink is one of those pieces.
Created some time ago, it sits slightly apart from my more familiar body of work. Where the daughters hold stillness and depth, this painting moves more lightly. There’s a rhythm in it—soft pinks crossing over greens, textures shifting beneath the surface, marks that feel instinctive rather than resolved.
Looking at it now, it feels less like a departure and more like a punctuation.
A pause.
A kind of visual breath between heavier thoughts.
The original is small in scale, but when I see it placed within a larger interior, it expands in an unexpected way—its lightness becoming something more declarative, more present.
I’ve come to appreciate these moments in my work.
Not as contradictions, but as necessary counterparts.
Because even within the most introspective bodies of work, there is often a need for balance—for colour, for movement, for a sense of ease.
Perhaps that’s what this piece holds.
A quiet sense of relief.
