There’s a specific kind of beauty that lives in the dark — not the absence of light, but the depth of it. My mixed media works grow from that idea. I build them layer by layer, using acrylics, liners, and metallic paints to create depth that feels physical, emotional, and symbolic all at once.
Darkness, for me, isn’t about gloom. It’s about atmosphere. It’s where mystery lives — where the metallic reflections of silver and chrome breathe against matte paint, where neon pink glows like a wound, and where flowers turn into sentient forms. In this layered space, every surface holds something hidden.
Building Depth Through Materials
Working in mixed media allows me to treat the surface like a living thing. I start with acrylic paint — rough, textural, unpredictable. It sets the tone, like the ground beneath a ritual. Then I begin to layer markers, liners, and metallic pigments. Each layer behaves differently: acrylic absorbs; marker stains; metallic paint reflects. Together, they create a kind of visual dialogue — light against matte, softness against precision.
This technique lets me play with contrast — both visual and emotional. The dark backgrounds are not voids; they are breathing fields. The shiny details feel like voices trying to emerge from the silence. I love how the glossy paint catches light unevenly, changing as you move around the piece. It’s like the artwork has its own pulse.
In my gothic compositions, this layering is what builds the mood — the quiet tension between order and chaos, clarity and distortion.
Folklore and the Gothic
My gothic sensibility doesn’t come from cathedrals or graveyards, but from folklore. In many Slavic and pagan traditions, darkness was never purely evil. It was a necessary space — a part of the natural cycle where transformation happened. I see that same rhythm in art: decay as a form of rebirth, shadow as potential.
That’s why I paint flowers with teeth, roots shaped like serpents, eyes that bloom from petals. These symbols aren’t meant to frighten; they’re reminders of vitality. The gothic, in my work, becomes a form of honesty — acknowledging the strange, the wild, the imperfect.
When I use metallic pigments, especially silver and bronze, I think of ancient icons, where darkness served to highlight the sacred glow. The shimmer is never purely decorative — it’s emotional light, a way to show reverence for imperfection.
Emotional Weight of Texture
Texture is one of the most important emotional tools in my mixed media paintings. The roughness of the surface gives physicality to emotion — it’s not smooth or idealized. Sometimes the paint cracks slightly, or the metallic layer pools unevenly. I don’t correct these details. They feel true to the work’s inner logic.
There’s something tactile about darkness. You can almost feel it. I like to make my paintings reflect that — the sensation of touching something unknown. When light hits the raised patterns or uneven strokes, it animates them, almost like skin. It turns the artwork into something alive — an object that breathes back.
Symbolism Hidden in Layers
Each layer of paint is a layer of meaning. The first strokes carry instinct — movement without plan. The liner drawings that follow introduce precision, like thought forming out of emotion. Finally, metallic and neon details act as a voice, giving clarity to what hides underneath.
In some pieces, the composition builds itself around opposites: decay and bloom, life and death, softness and violence. I often imagine them as rituals captured mid-transformation — botanical forms mutating, eyes emerging from flowers, sacred patterns dissolving into abstraction.
That’s what I love about working with mixed media — nothing is stable. Everything shifts. The same way emotions do.
Darkness as a Mirror
People often think darkness absorbs, but I’ve found it reveals. In a dark space, the smallest glimmer becomes meaningful. In art, that’s the beauty of shadow — it teaches you to look closer.
My gothic mixed media pieces are built around that idea. They’re not meant to be read at once; they’re meant to be discovered. When viewed in natural light, the metallic pigments reveal one kind of image. Under artificial light, another appears. Each shift reveals a new tone — as if the artwork is whispering something different every time.
For me, darkness isn’t a theme — it’s a medium. It’s what allows light, texture, and meaning to exist.
The Beauty of Layers
What keeps me drawn to this process is its honesty. The layers never fully hide one another. Even when painted over, you can still sense the earlier strokes — the traces of where the thought began. It reminds me that beauty isn’t in the perfection of a single layer, but in the transparency between them.
My gothic mixed media art lives in that transparency. In the tension between shine and shadow, control and intuition. It’s art that asks you to linger — not to understand immediately, but to feel the slow unfolding of depth.
Because in the end, darkness isn’t absence. It’s a form of presence — one that reveals more, the longer you stay.
