Introduction: More Than a Face
When I create a portrait, I rarely think of it as just capturing a face. I think of it as conjuring a presence—channeling something ancestral, archetypal, or even sacred. In pagan and folk traditions, faces weren’t always about likeness. They were symbols. They could be spirits, protectors, omens, or guides. And that sense of the face as a threshold between the visible and invisible deeply informs my own art.
The Archetypal Face
In many ancient cultures, especially those with animist or nature-based belief systems, faces were used to embody archetypes. These weren't just people—they were the Maiden, the Crone, the Trickster, the Warrior, the Lover, the Witch. These figures appeared in oral stories, carved into wood, painted on textiles, and passed down through generations.
In my own pieces like "HER" or "SINNER", I explore this tension between individuality and universality—how a face can feel deeply personal and yet stand for something collective.
Masks: Protection, Power, and Ritual
Masks are perhaps the clearest example of how faces were treated symbolically. In pagan festivals across Europe—like Samhain in Celtic lands or Kupala Night in Slavic regions—masks were worn not to hide, but to transform. To become something other. To commune with the divine or the dangerous.
The mask allowed the wearer to step into another role—sometimes feared, sometimes holy. In my work, I’m fascinated by the metaphor of the “inner mask” we wear daily—whether it's softness, seduction, rage, or silence—and how art allows us to peel that back or reinforce it, depending on the message.
The Language of Facial Expression
A tilt of the chin. A gaze averted. Lips closed or slightly parted.
These small details carry massive weight, especially when you’re trying to depict emotion without overt narrative. In pagan portraiture, faces weren’t always smiling. They were solemn. Watchful. Sometimes unreadable—like oracles.
In works like "Sensibility", I intentionally focus on minimal, surreal facial cues. I want the viewer to pause and question: Is this person hiding something? Is she about to speak—or has she just been silenced?
Face Painting and Symbolic Adornment
Face painting wasn’t decoration—it was communication. Different regions had different customs, but face markings were often used to signify coming-of-age, mourning, fertility, war, or divination.
I see this tradition echo in the modern love of eyeliner, tattoos, and glitter—how we mark our skin as a form of storytelling or claiming power. In my own mixed-media portraits, I sometimes add symbolic elements like flowers, spirals, or geometric patterns around the face as nods to these ancestral rituals.
If you’re drawn to symbolic markings, you might also enjoy "Just a Phase" or "Mirage"—both of which explore the spiritual and surreal boundary between identity and expression.
The Spiritual Gaze
There’s something magnetic about eye contact in art. Folk icons, for example, often featured wide, direct eyes that seemed to look right through you. They weren’t passive—they were present. Sometimes even unsettlingly so.
I’m constantly intrigued by how the direction of the gaze—whether confrontational or dreamy—can shift the entire energy of a portrait. Some of my most viewed works use this technique intentionally to hold the viewer in a moment of tension or introspection.
Contemporary Revival of Folk Portraiture
Today, more and more artists (myself included) are returning to these older ways of seeing. We’re not just painting portraits—we’re invoking symbols. We’re merging softness with strength, identity with mythology, stillness with presence.
If you want to explore more in this space, browse my collection of thought-provoking wall art, or sapphic portraits where these ideas live and bloom.
Closing Thoughts: The Face as Portal
To me, every portrait is a kind of spell. It asks the viewer to pause and feel—not just look. And in pagan and folk traditions, the face was always more than flesh. It was a portal, a story, a boundary, and sometimes a battlefield.
That’s what I try to bring into each piece I create: not a face, but a feeling.
