The First Time I Died - 2022 original painting

(18”x24”, acrylic on canvas w/glossy finish- message me if you’re outside of the US and interested in purchasing). The last few months I’ve had horrible creative block. I don’t know why. I know it’s normal and my creative process is a cycle and it’s normal to hibernate but it’s been hurting me a bit - getting into my head and feeling like I’ve run out of ideas when I know I never will run out of ideas. Then I had a conversation a few weeks prior to posting this that blossomed an idea. Firstly, I need to preface with the fact that I had the bones for this painting months ago and it started to become a casualty of my lack of drive. It hurts to see a bunch of paintings I half started sitting in the corner. I had the sky done, that’s about it. The painting itself could have morphed into a thousand different things but it became the perfect one, as painful as it may be.
Backtracking to the conversation that drove this. Maybe this will stay up for months, maybe someone will adopt this piece sooner than everyone I know who reads the descriptions would even get a chance to, which maybe would be ideal.
My dad isn’t the most tech savvy man, as a lot of our parents aren’t and that’s okay. Whenever he wants to look at my website he asks me to text him a link even though if he takes a minute to scroll up our text thread he will find it several times. That’s okay. Loosely quoting: “I looked at your website the other day and was reading and you really put it all out there”. I asked him what he meant by this, even though I knew. “You don’t have any secrets!”
I went on to explain that obviously I don’t put every detail into a description, and I share what it’s about, I share what I’m comfortable with sharing with the world.
“Yeah, but it like, takes away the mystery for other people; it can mean something different to someone else”
That’s a part of art - this piece, that piece, any piece, could mean something entirely different to someone else but they are still connecting with it on some level. As the person who created it, of course I’m going to talk about what it means, whether it has the exact same meaning to someone on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean or a totally different one. If someone sees a painting, drawing or any form of artistic expression and it draws them in, they usually are interested in what was happening behind the scenes, what is the inspiration, what does this mean, how did you get this idea. Again, even if it means something different or it’s something wildly relatable.
“Yeah but like, what if you do something and you talk about how your dad is an asshole ha ha ha”
This took me aback, I was upset but I didn’t have an emotional reaction.
If that’s what the painting is about, then that’s what the painting is about but I would never say it like that and I would never actively try to damn someone - I felt like he wanted to censor me because of something he felt guilty about in the past.
The conversation then turned into him thinking about all of the good things he did and my mind was stuck in the bad things. My dad wasn’t and isn’t a bad dad, and there’s no handbook that comes with parenting.

✨In short: this painting is about the first time a part of my soul was truly shattered when I was a child.

I typed out the story of this painting, but against my better judgement I'm choosing not to share it - though I really feel like I should. It's lengthy, I feel safer posting it on Tumblr. If you're interested in reading it it might end up there. The story will definitely be told in my own handwriting to whoever purchases. Thank you for reading❤️