This painting was my secret project for more than two years.

In 2021, I painted “Free Yourself”, which was quickly sold to a collector in Barcelona. I was very grateful - but I also soon regretted it, because the piece was very close to my heart. I created it at the beginning of my healing process.

In 2022, I began creating a larger version for myself. Over time, I realized I didn’t want to make the same painting, so I stopped. And the canvas waited… for over a year.

Recently, I forced myself to face it again. I even kept it on my bed, so I would wake up next to it, waiting for inspiration. One morning, it finally came. I painted directly over the old version - I won’t lie, it was terrifying (but also exciting). The whole process became a mix of pure fun, humming while painting, intertwined with constant breakdowns and doubts about whether I would ever finish it.

While creating the new concept, I realized what I wanted this painting to represent. It’s not just an updated version of my beloved “Free Yourself” - this painting is a visual depiction of the healing process, of therapy. The chaos of difficulties, joy, pain, small victories, and the pursuit of the ultimate goal: a sense of freedom.

What I value most about this painting is how many interpretations it allows. Everyone sees their own personal experience in it. Some relate it to battling illness, others to grief. Some view the painting from bottom to top, others the opposite way.

The painting is also inspired by several songs: “Black Swan” - about an artist’s first death, “Louder than Bombs” - about sacrifice for art, and “Set Me Free Pt. 2” - about struggling with one’s own doubts. That’s why the image features multiplied figures of Jimin, the vocalist from BTS, who has been inspiring some of my works for several years.

White orchids with solar-panel petals rise from a tangle of cables intertwined with stems. Against a dark background, the scene centers on the quiet fusion of organic growth and mechanical structure - a calm study of how nature and technology can share the same form and yield the same result: sunlight transformed into energy.  

"Eldest Daughter" is a visual exploration of the personal burdens inherent in this role. As the first-born child and grandchild, I have long been shaped by the unspoken expectation to be a perpetual role model. The painting's centerpiece is a feminine metal corset—an armor worn to protect the family. It is intertwined with dried roses, symbolizing the sacrifice of one's own vitality for the sake of others. It’s also linked to the struggle of finding love, a consequence of being overindependent and emotionally guarded. The cracks fracturing the armor represent my persistent sense of failure: the feeling of never quite fulfilling my duties of being the role model I was expected to be.

This painting reflects the hidden struggles behind beauty and the quiet strength that comes from overcoming them. A kneeling figure appears exhausted, as if having just finished a long journey. Above him, a flower blooms - the result of every sacrifice, every moment of pain and effort. It represents the beauty that can emerge from hardship.

From the flower, a small figure swims upward toward the sky, symbolizing release and the search for freedom beyond struggle. Above, a few doves circle gently, suggesting peace and the calm that follows perseverance.

“The Perfect End” explores how people often admire the final result without seeing the journey behind it - the pain, the persistence, the unseen battles that make beauty possible. It is about the balance between effort and reward, struggle and serenity, and how every ending carries the story of what came before.

Being creative and vulnerable is a beautiful process, but it often comes with emotional weight - it can hurt. It’s a dance of contradictions: expression and exposure, beauty and pain, freedom and fragility. Vulnerability becomes both the source of inspiration and the cost of creation.

I wanted to reflect that contradiction - how vulnerability, chaos, and healing can coexist. The figure stands in a stream of calm light while being consumed by fire, symbolizing the emotional cost of expression. The second figure is drowning, slowly consumed by the water - symbolising how artists allow themselves to be lost in the process. 

Inspired by the Polish song “Niech boli”, the painting is a visual dance between destruction and clarity, where art becomes both the wound and the cure.

"Life is not a photo but a drawing that takes shape little by little with sketches and erasures. Only in the end, when we look at it all together, do we realize that every stroke, even the most painful, has shaped our happiness." (La dama velata)

This quote perfectly reflects the process behind this piece. The final version emerged from experimenting with my earlier “Wild Flower” inspired painting. Indigo is an album in which RM reflects on his twenties, sharing his internal struggles and confronting his past self with the person he is today. This painting is a visual representation of that beautiful, challenging, and chaotic decade, expressed through the many shades of indigo.

The first impression this painting gives is one of “drowning.” Yet beneath that sense of submersion lies something more profound - a quiet, resilient blooming in darkness. Like a flower that opens only in shadow, it emerges amidst struggle, fragile yet determined. This work captures that delicate tension between survival and growth, portraying the extraordinary beauty of thriving even when light feels out of reach.

This piece reflects on the nature of “white lies”—those seemingly harmless statements we tell to avoid hurting others. But how often do we hide our true feelings behind a smile, not out of consideration, but fear of being misunderstood or judged? “I’m okay” may seem like a small, trivial lie, yet it can conceal deeper shadows, emotions we’re reluctant to confront or reveal. The painting captures that tension between outward composure and inner struggle, exploring the hidden darkness behind what we call harmless truths.

No matter how many tears you'll make me shed
You won't extinguish my flames
I'll burn

This piece is a celebration of holding onto your fire - your passions, joys, and the things that make your spirit light up. Whatever sparks happiness for you doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else; it’s yours, and that makes it beautiful. Every day, there are forces - sometimes strangers, sometimes loved ones, sometimes even ourselves - ready to dampen that flame. This painting is a reminder that it’s our responsibility to protect our fire, to keep it burning bright, and to let it warm and inspire us with each new day.

This composition is built around three symbolic elements: wings, reminding us to never stop dreaming; amaryllis flowers, representing hard-won success, especially in artistic pursuits; and Yoongi being carried off the stage, a gentle reminder of the importance of rest. Together, they form a narrative of aspiration, achievement, and self-care.

Inspired by “Singularity”, the song about hiding your true self. Wearing a mask to get over the pain.

However, the mask could change personality and make us lose our real identity. Is it worth hiding behind it?

Inspired by JK’s lyrics, this piece combines two glasses with a crystal flower-  shimmering like diamonds, beautiful and strong, yet inherently fragile. It reflects our own souls, minds, and dreams: delicate, easily shattered by a single misstep. The work invites a quiet, vulnerable question we all face:

Am I ever going to heal again?

This painting is my visual interpretation of “Stop the Rain” by Tablo and RM.

“When I was a kid I was convinced that I was destined for the 27 Club… I’m twenty-nine, sinkin’ in the bathtub, sippin’ gin…” (~RM)

When I heard those lines, I flashed back — I thought I was destined for the 19 Club. I was sinkin’ in the bathtub, ended up 24, sippin’ soju, still searching for meaning. My 20s felt like drifting through fog — heavy, slow, and uncertain. Everyone else seemed to be moving forward while I was just trying to breathe.

There’s guilt in not having a plan, in standing still. But maybe that’s part of being human — carrying pain you never asked for while trying to figure out how to keep going.

This song didn’t give me answers, but it gave me understanding — the quiet ache of still being here. And somehow, in that emptiness, it gave me enough to create again.

“Can’t run away from the pain, I’m tryna stop the forever rain.”

You stop running from the storm. You let it fall.

MY EYES ARE BLEEDING

When parents don’t know if they’ll see their kid after school day. When People starve, loose their homes, leave their country, pray to survive the next day. When children are being deprived from their childhood. When people are being censored and losing freedom. When increasing polarization is slowly destroying our world.

“How many people suffer because of other people? How many lifes are destroyed because of war? How many families are separated? How many woman die because of visible hair under hijab? How many wifes or husbands are being abused? How many kids are traumatised? How many woman die because of refused abortion? How many people die because they love someone and others don’t accept it? How many people suffer because of one man’s ideology.... “

Questions I wrote 3 years ago… and the numbers in the answers are still increasing. Moreover, new questions appear every day. New reasons to keep us apart from each other.

“My eyes bleed everytime I read about these types of events... My eyes bleed desperately trying to look for peace... My heart bleed trying to keep my faith in humanity...
Will we ever stop?”

Movies like “Superman” are trying to restore our faith in people. But each day, news remind me that these movies… are still fiction…

“Philophobia” explores the complex emotions tied to the fear of love.

At the center is a figure surrounded by red roses - symbols of love - yet also covered in thorns, representing how love often brings pain.

The girl’s back bears reddish-brown marks, symbolizing past negative experiences, while blue stains represent her fear of being hurt again. Scratches on her shoulder hint at self-punishment for her trust issues and emotional avoidance. To the left, a hand reaches out to offer help, but she turns away. The male hand is covered in blue thorns, reflecting her prejudices, past trauma, and anxiety, which she projects onto others.

”Philophobia” is a struggle between craving connection and pushing it away, and I hope I was able to capture that inner conflict.

The flowers in my paintings are more than just a beautiful addition to the portrait - they are silent storytellers. Each bloom is chosen with intention, layered with symbolism that adds emotional depth and narrative to the work. They whisper of themes like resilience, memory, love, or loss, offering a second language through color and form. While their outward beauty catches the eye, their true purpose is to echo the hidden layers of the subject’s identity and experience. In this way, the flowers become both an aesthetic element and a vessel for meaning, enriching the portrait beyond what words alone could express.

“And as you lay down your grace to me

The skies begin to bleach red

And the stars begin to fall

I feel myself changing

As my world starts dividing I’m going (I’m going, I’m going)

I look upon you one last time

As I

Set my wings on fire(...)”

(“Seraph” DPR IAN)

Scarlet red dominates this piece - a color of intensity and vulnerability, often misunderstood, much like the subject it represents. It’s balanced by verdigris: that elusive tone “not quite green, not quite blue,” a hue that resists definition. Around these colors, smoke drifts in shifting gradients, carrying the weight of unspoken emotion and internal conflict.

Created during the artist’s ADHD diagnosis, “Misunderstood” reflects on the dual nature of self-expression - where creativity becomes both freedom and confinement. The closed wings at the painting’s center embody this tension: the desire to soar restrained by the structures of identity, expectation, and perception.

Drawing inspiration from DPR IAN’s “Skins” and its haunting refrain, “I’ve never asked to be like this,” the work meditates on difference, sensitivity, and the struggle to exist authentically within systems not built for everyone.

Misunderstood invites viewers to consider the contradictions within themselves - the traits that liberate and limit.