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The arm continues to evolve. I reshaped it again, adjusting the linework and structure. I’ve also added a kind of bridge - my take on the Bifrost, a threshold between realms. A place to cross over.
Work In Progress: The Heartbreak will be Televised V2.0
We new have a title: The Heartbreak will be Televised
The arm in this piece wasn’t working. I redrew it.
What started out organic and bone-like became something armored. Something mechanical. Something that made more sense for what I’ve been feeling.
Sometimes, what starts as hope or connection turns into strain or imbalance. And in those moments, we’re left deciding whether to force it, abandon it, or reshape the way we show up.
It’s easy to get stuck in anger or exhaustion. But even when you're overwhelmed, you can still pause. You can observe the chaos without fusing with it. You can feel the feelings and still choose how to respond.
This is the part where courage matters.
The courage to ask: “What’s really mine to carry?”
The courage to say: “I want to show up differently.”
The new arm reflects that shift. A rework. A reminder. A quiet kind of power.
Work In Progress: Untitled V1.9
Lately, I’ve been thinking about how life moves in waves: sharp demands followed by stillness. Nothing stays fixed. Emotions rise, situations shift, and sometimes the best you can do is stay present and watch it move without reacting too hard.
You don’t have to become the chaos. You can notice it, acknowledge it, and still choose to respond with calm.
I’ve been trying to listen more. Just the act of actually listening has been shifting something in me. It’s not about fixing. It’s about showing up fairly, asking for grace, and extending the same grace when others are the ones catching up to the wagon.
This piece continues to evolve, like I do.
Work In Progress: Untitled V1.8
Color progress continues. This one has been evolving slowly. The background carries an explosion, which has taken time to shape. A lot of mapping, erasing, redoing. Some elements resist being visualized until they’re felt through.
That’s true of emotion too. I’ve spent a long time learning how to sit with feelings that once knocked me off course. What helped most was something simple but life-changing: learning that I am not my thoughts.
This idea came from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. It teaches that we are the observer, not the storm. Just because a thought appears doesn’t mean we have to believe it. Just because we feel something doesn’t mean we have to act on it. Thoughts pass. Feelings pass. What remains is the space between them — the space where we choose how to respond.
That lesson took years to learn, and I still practice it every day. Staying composed isn’t passive. It’s work. And it’s a kind of quiet strength rarely recognized.
You don’t have to become what you feel. You can hold space for it and let it move on.
Work In Progress: Untitled V1.7
Sometimes. It gets worse, before it gets better.
I can't always see the forest for the trees. I start chopping anyway.
Work In Progress: Untitled V1.6
Color work continues.
Some roles are assigned silently.
The composed and capable become bearers of burden.
The less reactive a person, the more pressure pours on.
It often happens without consent. A pattern that favors containment over conflict.
There is a heroic restraint in managing your own limits while absorbing what others discard.
Especially when restraint is mistaken for capacity.
There’s a hidden cost to being steady. One that often goes unnoticed and misunderstood.
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