i, sunflower
This series of paintings marks a shift from my earlier ink drawings. In an effort to move beyond a mindset ruled by control and precision, I turned to ink painting, a medium that requires presence, spontaneity, and surrender. In this tradition, the artist must observe the subject, internalize it, then channel its spirit through the brush.
For the first few months, I acquainted myself with the brush, making black marks on paper. I was learning to breathe, listen to my body, and follow its movement. The ink was startlingly sensitive—every flicker of doubt and surge of agitation ran through it. Whatever I felt was reflected in the mark.
One day, I added yellow to the black. A sunflower appeared. With petals like rays of light bursting from a dense, dark center, the sunflower reminded me of the solar eclipse—a collision of opposing energies. From birth to decay, the sunflower experiences every emotion before bowing its head and returning to earth.
For the next two years, I painted sunflower after sunflower. They became vessels for my joy, pain, and hope, each one guiding me through a different state. Some days, I painted with lightness and clarity. Some nights, I wilted in turmoil. Every morning, the sun rose again.