The Fragmented Series: A Journey from Chaos to Clarity

The cathartic nature of painting without an aim toward form or substance is deeply healing for me. In these moments, when I let go of all expectations and allow color to flow freely across the canvas, I’m not thinking about composition or technique. I’m not concerned with whether the painting is “good” or “bad.” I am simply placing color where it feels right, letting each stroke reflect my emotions in the rawest form. There is no need to make sense of it in that moment, no pressure to create something recognizable. It’s an intuitive process that taps into a deep part of myself, a part that has often been suppressed or misunderstood.

Painting like this—without a goal or structure—feels freeing and, in many ways, therapeutic. It’s like releasing the burden of judgment that often comes with creative work and life itself. For so long, I was defined by the confines of my past, especially my experience with emotional abuse. In that relationship, I often felt I was being watched, controlled, or ignored. My emotions were suppressed or dismissed, and my voice seemed irrelevant. In those moments of uninhibited painting, I reclaim my space, my right to exist fully, without apology.

The colors and shapes that emerge on the canvas are often spontaneous, even chaotic. They are a reflection of the emotional landscape I’m navigating. But there is something beautiful in that chaos, something raw and honest. It feels like I am giving myself permission to express what I have long held inside, to let it pour out in a way that doesn’t have to be “pretty” or “perfect.” There’s a catharsis in that freedom, a sense of release, as if the brush is a tool for cleansing, for letting go of the weight of old pain. Each stroke is a small act of self-validation, an acknowledgment that my feelings—no matter how messy or complex—deserve to be expressed.

But then comes the next part of my process: the silhouettes. After the canvas has been covered in these uninhibited designs, I begin to draw outlines, placing forms over the chaos I’ve created. I block in the negative space around the silhouettes with white, leaving only the space within the silhouette visible. In doing so, I am shaping something new from the chaotic freedom that came before. The silhouette becomes a container, a form that holds all the rawness of the previous strokes. It’s a way to define the space I’ve created while still allowing the energy of the initial expression to remain visible.

The act of blocking in the negative space represents an intentional creation of boundaries—something that feels powerful in my journey of healing. Emotional abuse left me with a sense of being overwhelmed and undefined, often feeling like my boundaries were violated or disregarded. But with each silhouette, I am creating space for myself again, defining who I am and how I want to exist in the world. The silhouette offers structure without erasing the chaos; it’s a symbol of resilience, a way of giving form to the feelings that were once scattered and uncontained.

In this process, I find a sense of balance between vulnerability and strength. The chaos of the initial brushstrokes is not discarded but integrated into something new, something that holds the potential for growth and understanding. The white space surrounding the silhouette doesn’t erase the past; it defines it in a way that allows me to look at it without fear. The silhouette becomes a vessel, holding all the pieces of my experience, including the fragments of pain, but also the fragments of strength and survival.

This series is called the Fragmented series because it embodies the journey of piecing together a self that has been broken, distorted, or scattered by trauma. Each painting is a reflection of that process: the chaotic, emotional release followed by the gentle shaping of a new image. It is a reminder that healing doesn’t mean erasing the past or pretending that the chaos didn’t exist—it means finding a way to integrate it, to build something meaningful from it. The silhouettes represent that process of integration, offering a form that holds and defines all the fragments of myself, each one contributing to the whole.

Through this series, I am not only telling a story of healing but also finding peace in the act of creation. The act of painting without aim allows me to express what I cannot always put into words. The silhouettes, then, are a way of giving that expression meaning, shaping it into something that reflects my journey—one that is fragmented, yes, but also whole, beautiful, and mine.