How Art Becomes a Site of Manifestation
Manifestation is often described as intention or desire moving into form, but artists experience it differently. For me, manifestation happens inside the artwork long before it appears in life. The image becomes a rehearsal for an emotional state, a soft projection of who I might become. When I create portraits or botanicals with symbolic structure — mirrored shapes, dotted halos, inner glow — I’m not illustrating a future self. I’m allowing that self to take shape through colour, symmetry, and atmosphere. Art becomes a place where identity can expand without pressure, where possibility is held visually before it is lived.
Myth-Making as Personal Language
Myth-making has always belonged to communities and cultures, but contemporary artists often reclaim it on an individual scale. The myths I build inside my work aren’t narratives with heroes or outcomes; they’re emotional architectures. A vertical halo, a mirrored flower, or a glowing contour functions as a small myth — a visual belief in transformation, protection, or renewal. These symbols repeat across my portraits and botanicals not because I plan them, but because they feel like the language of my internal world. Through repetition, they become a private mythology that anchors the work and shapes the self who makes it.
Folk-Surreal Logic as a Bridge Between Past and Possible
My approach often blends folk motifs with surreal distortion. This combination allows me to connect the grounded, inherited parts of the self with the fluid, imaginative ones. Folk logic — symmetry, rhythm, protective shapes — provides structure. Surreal logic — glow, distortion, unusual colour — creates expansion. Together, they form a vocabulary that feels both ancient and future-oriented. When I work inside this blend, I feel as though I’m building a self that honours where I come from but isn’t limited by it. The artwork becomes a bridge between the known and the possible.
Manifestation Through Symbolic Atmosphere
Manifestation in my practice doesn’t arrive through explicit intention. It grows through atmosphere — the temperature of colour, the softness or tension of a line, the glow gathering around a figure. Hot pink suggests emotional heat; teal suggests grounding; lilac suggests quiet intuition. When these colours interact inside a portrait, they create an emotional environment rather than a literal scene. That environment becomes a subtle declaration of how I want to feel, or who I’m becoming. The image teaches me the emotional physics of my future self long before I articulate it consciously.
Portraits as Emotional Icons of Becoming
My portraits rarely depict a specific person. They hold a state, a mood, or a version of the self that hasn’t fully arrived. The stillness of the face, the slow gaze, the luminous contours — all of it becomes a reflection of internal shifts. These portraits feel like icons not because they reference religion, but because they stabilise something fragile and in transition. They serve as touchstones for the self I’m growing into. In this way, portraiture becomes a visual manifestation practice: a way to see what is forming beneath the surface.
Botanicals as Symbols of Expansion and Renewal
The botanicals in my work behave like metaphors for evolution. They stretch, mirror, open, fold, and glow in ways that suggest emotional processes rather than biology. A symmetrical bloom may function as a symbol of alignment; a distorted petal may reveal a moment of change; a stem that lifts vertically may suggest movement toward clarity. These forms allow me to express transformation without forcing it into narrative. When I draw them, I feel as though I’m giving shape to future versions of myself — versions that grow consciously and intuitively, like plants reaching toward light.
Why Myth-Making and Manifestation Belong Together
Myth-making gives structure to the unseen; manifestation gives direction to it. When paired, they create a dynamic framework for personal evolution. The myths I create in my work — glowing figures, ritual botanicals, soft portals — support my process of becoming by giving emotional shape to potential. The artwork doesn’t predict the future; it opens a space where the future self can appear without pressure or definition. It becomes a quiet rehearsal, a symbolic practice of growth.
In this sense, manifestation through art is not about control. It is about creating visual conditions in which a new self can emerge organically. Through folk-surreal symbols, intuitive colour, and emotional atmosphere, the work becomes both mirror and catalyst — a place where myth shapes identity, and identity shapes the future.
