When I paint eyes, I don’t think of them as just organs of sight — they are mirrors, portals, and witnesses. They appear in my original acrylic paintings, mixed media artworks, and surreal botanical compositions as living symbols of awareness. For me, eyes represent not only what we see, but what we feel when we are truly seen.
In my creative process, vision is not passive observation. It is a form of intimacy — between the observer and the artwork, between myself and the canvas, between inner and outer worlds. The recurring eye motif in my paintings reflects the way perception itself becomes emotional, fluid, and vulnerable.
Seeing as Feeling
In symbolic and surreal art, the eye has always held power. It can protect, reveal, or expose. From the ancient Egyptian Eye of Horus to Renaissance portraiture, eyes have been charged with the idea of knowledge and consciousness.
But when I include eyes in my original paintings, I’m not referring to history directly — I’m extending its emotional weight. I see eyes as bridges between human experience and abstraction. They might bloom inside flowers, appear on petals, or emerge from shadowed forms. They become part of a living landscape of observation, where vision turns into empathy.
There’s something tender in that — the idea that an artwork can look back at you. In my surreal original paintings, eyes often appear half-closed, layered with texture, or surrounded by floral or metallic shapes. They don’t stare; they breathe. They feel. They remind us that looking is never one-directional — that to see beauty also means to be exposed to it.
The Eye as a Symbol in Surreal and Botanical Art
The symbolism of eyes extends far beyond the literal. In my mixed media paintings, the eye often merges with organic forms — leaves, roots, stems, or abstract petals. This intertwining expresses the way human emotion is rooted in the natural world.
The surreal, sometimes dreamlike presence of eyes in original art reflects how the act of seeing connects body and spirit. Metallic accents, layered acrylic texture, or glossy finishes create a sensation of moisture, of something alive and observing.
Each brushstroke becomes part of an anatomy of attention. The eye — whether central or hidden among forms — becomes the pulse of the painting. It transforms the piece into something conscious, even sentient.
When I create these symbolic original artworks, I think of them as conversations about awareness: how we see the world, how it sees us back, and how truth shifts depending on who is looking.
The Emotional Language of Vision
Vision in art is rarely neutral. We project onto what we see. When a viewer stands in front of a symbolic painting filled with layered eyes, they often describe a mix of attraction and unease — a sense that something understands them more deeply than they expected.
That emotional friction is intentional. The eye is one of the few symbols that can simultaneously hold love, fear, and recognition. It questions whether being seen is a relief or a threat.
In my original acrylic artworks, I often use contrasting surfaces — matte backgrounds against reflective metallic paint — to echo that duality. The viewer moves, light shifts, and suddenly the gaze changes. What was calm becomes sharp; what felt closed becomes open. This dialogue between artwork and viewer is at the heart of why I paint eyes: they allow the painting to see back.
Original Art as a Reflection of Inner Vision
Every original painting I create begins with a question of perception. What does it mean to see the world not only visually, but emotionally? What does it mean to feel watched — by memory, by nature, by your own reflection?
In my symbolic wall art and surreal paintings, eyes act as emotional anchors. They are the heart of the composition, even when small or hidden. They remind me that art is a form of self-recognition — a way of confronting the invisible through color, shape, and rhythm.
Owning or living with an original painting that features eyes changes the atmosphere of a space. It adds presence. It creates the feeling that the room itself is aware — that your interior world has found a mirror in the artwork.
When I paint eyes, I am not only exploring vision — I am creating a dialogue between seeing and being seen, between the conscious and the subconscious. Each gaze is both an invitation and a boundary. It protects, questions, and reflects.
And maybe that is what art is always doing: reminding us that we are not just observers of beauty — we are also part of its gaze.
