In my experience in the black hours of the night, problems and worries often swell. What was small can grow vast in the dark. By dawn, they can press against the light, unresolved and raw. As a mother of three and a psychologist working with people, this feeling is no stranger to me. Some mornings arrive too soon but not soon enough. Light that doesn’t warm, but reveals. The surface is simple, but the weight lies underneath. In the dread of what begins again. In the awareness that not everything wants to wake. And yet, I feel there also is a certain softness in the painting. A quietness in the colours, a calm in the composition. It is this tension between heaviness and tenderness that gives the work its presence. That makes you stay and keep looking. I hope 🙂