I’ve been thinking a lot about how creativity feels like something inside us waiting to overflow—like a mind that grows beyond its boundaries. In one of my recent pieces, I explore that as literally as I can: a vase shaped like an open head, its mouth a jagged rim that bleeds into bloom. That contrast—vessel and flower—is where thought becomes feeling, and private inner life becomes visible emotion.
"VASE" Red & Orange Floral Art Poster
For me, the artwork functions as a kind of symbolic head: open at the top, porous, ready to pour out what lives inside—dreams, memories, sensory fragments I collect over time. The jagged, almost tooth-like rim seems at first like a barrier or a mouth shut tight, but instead of words or aggression, it releases soft petals, tendrils, blooming forms. It’s less a shout than a slow exhale.
I think that rim speaks to the tension between thinking and speaking. The lines are rough, uneven—perhaps a boundary between inner silence and outward expression. But instead of spoken language, what spills is floral speech: delicate, visual poetry that communicates without shouting. The mouth becomes a garden.
This duality—how the inside world becomes outward, and vice versa—is a recurring theme for me. And in this vase-head piece, blooming forms replace speech; softness becomes communication.
Flowers, vines, shapes—they speak in color and movement. They don’t argue. They don’t demand attention. They invite it. The bright reds, oranges, and pastel hues gather around the open vessel in a kind of visual melody, suggesting that vulnerability and gentleness carry their own strength.
I often think about emotional expression in our hyper-stimulated world. Sometimes the expectation is for loudness, for words to carry weight—yet so many of us find safety in softer modes. Here, the mouth in the vase isn’t aggressive—it’s simply absent. And in its absence, it allows flowers to bloom anyway, to speak.
This piece is not about the vessel keeping things in, but about giving shape to what wants to be let out. It’s a physical rendering of how creativity often rushes out when we create space for it. The jagged rim is imperfect, open, and somehow protective—a paradox that feels deeply honest to me. It says: “I may be fractured, but I allow emergence.”
Visually, the vase fills almost the entire frame, and the flowers expand to touch the edges. There’s a fullness to it—not overwhelming, but balanced. It’s intentional: the vessel and what emerges should feel connected, inseparable. I want it to feel alive, breathing, layered.
The gentle curves and rhythmic shapes speak to how emotional life isn’t always linear—it’s haptic, cyclical, intuitive. The open head becomes a metaphor for emotional receptivity and release. It’s a reminder that what we hold inside can transform into something generous, beautiful, and healing—even when our edges feel rough.
