When Flowers Become Something More Than Decorative
In my artwork, flowers rarely exist as comforting symbols. They don’t simply decorate the figure or soften the composition. Instead, they carry an emotional weight that can shift from tender to unsettling in a breath. Their softness is real, but so is their tension. A petal can feel like a wound. A stem can behave like a vein. A halo of florals can look protective and threatening at the same time. Beauty becomes a vehicle for unease — something delicate yet edged with quiet strangeness.
Crying Eyes as a Point of Friction
Many of my portraits carry crying eyes, but the tears rarely fall in a natural way. They appear stylised, heavy, or graphic — black tears, thick streaks, droplets that seem carved rather than fluid. These tears introduce emotional friction. They make the face feel raw and vulnerable, but also strangely distant, like a mask cracked open. In this tension between sincerity and surreal artifice, the horror remains soft. It’s not violent or loud; it lingers quietly in the emotional gap between expression and interpretation.
Stillness That Feels a Little Too Still
Much of the unease in my work comes from stillness. My figures often sit in poses that feel suspended, as if caught mid-thought or mid-metamorphosis. The calmness is real, but it carries a subtle charge — a sense that something is happening beneath the surface. They look at the viewer without performing, without smiling, without offering reassurance. The result is an atmosphere where serenity becomes eerie, and beauty becomes uncanny through the absence of movement.
Flowers as Silent Witnesses
The florals that surround my figures often behave like quiet observers. They are symmetrical, glowing, or strangely animated. Their presence feels sentient, as if they are watching the character or echoing their emotional state. By positioning flowers as entities rather than ornaments, the scene gains an eerie liveliness. A bloom can appear tender, but also alert — a companion that knows more than it reveals. This dual sensation turns botanical beauty into a subtle form of horror.
The Uneasy Tenderness of Raw Expression
Many faces in my artwork hold an emotional openness that borders on uncomfortable. They are not aggressively expressive; they are bare. Wide eyes, parted lips, and tense softness create a vulnerability that feels exposed, unguarded. It’s the kind of expression that seems too honest, too unfiltered. This rawness, combined with the surreal forms around it, creates a gentle discomfort — a reminder that emotion is beautiful but rarely simple.
Why Soft Horror Feels More Intimate Than Fear
The horror in my artwork is not designed to frighten. It is designed to reveal. Soft horror is emotional rather than violent; psychological rather than graphic. It emerges from contradictions: beauty paired with unease, softness paired with tension, floral sweetness paired with strangeness. This form of horror feels intimate because it reflects the way discomfort moves through real life — quietly, subtly, beneath the surface of something gentle.
In blending florals with unease, crying eyes with stillness, beauty with strangeness, my work creates emotional spaces where softness holds its shadow. And in that shadow, something true begins to speak.
