Dark Side Of Life
This piece was created from a place of transformation, one that isn’t gentle, isn’t clean, and isn’t easy. It speaks to the kind of change that feels more like a breaking than a becoming.
There are moments in life where who you once were no longer fits, but letting go of that version of yourself feels like a loss. Not because it was perfect, but because it was familiar. This artwork lives in that space, the uncomfortable, in-between moment where something has to end in order for something else to begin.
The figure lying on the ground represents that former self. It’s not just a body, it’s identity, memory, past versions, past pain, past understanding. There’s a stillness to it, but not peace. It feels like something that has been shed, but not without resistance. Letting go of who you were can feel like grief, even when it’s necessary.
Standing above is something entirely different.
The new form is not soft or fully human, it’s raw, evolving, almost unstable. It’s still forming, still figuring itself out. The lines are chaotic, branching outward like energy or growth that hasn’t settled yet. This wasn’t meant to be a “perfect” rebirth. It’s something more honest, change that is messy, uncertain, and sometimes uncomfortable.
At the center of the figure is a burst of light, something alive and undeniable. To me, this represents the core of transformation, the part of you that survives everything, that continues to grow even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. It’s not about becoming someone entirely new, but about reconnecting with something deeper, something that was always there but perhaps hidden.
The text is direct because the feeling is direct. “Here lies the old me, now rises the new me.” It’s not meant to sound poetic, it’s meant to feel final. Like a statement you make when you know there’s no going back.
This piece is about endings, but more importantly, it’s about what comes after. The kind of change that doesn’t ask for permission. The kind that forces you to confront yourself, to shed layers, to rebuild in ways you didn’t expect.
As an artist, I’m drawn to transformation in its rawest form, not the polished version people like to present, but the real version that feels uncomfortable, heavy, and deeply human.
If this piece resonates, I hope it reminds you that growth isn’t always beautiful in the moment, but it is powerful. And sometimes, in order to become who you are meant to be, you have to let a version of yourself go completely.
