Shapes of Silence

In these paintings, what I cannot say becomes form.
Silence grows vines, folds into tiles, opens as flowers, hardens into stars. Bodies turn into landscapes; patterns turn into a language. Color carries what the mouth withholds.

I paint quickly and honestly—thick acrylic, blunt shapes, a childlike line that refuses to flatter. The motifs come from the places that hold me together: the ornamental alphabets of the Levant—textiles, tiles, garden tulips, prayer-like repetitions. I borrow their discipline and let feeling disturb it. Red pushes into blue, yellow stains the skin, green insists on life. Each canvas is an interior room: part sanctuary, part storm.