If Paintings Could Speak: Shades of Violet

"Painting became my way of understanding the worlds we carry inside us."

Shades of Violet - a painting that led me to reflect on curiosity, self-discovery, and the questions that shape us.

Opening Reflections

Very often, we think we know people.

We think we know our closest friends, our family members, our colleagues. We think we know who they are, how they will behave, what to expect from them. And perhaps this is one of the biggest traps we fall into. The moment we believe we fully understand someone, we stop being curious about them.

But the journey always begins much closer to home.

The truth is, even we don't fully know ourselves.

When we open our eyes in the morning, our attention immediately turns outward. We see the world around us. We notice other people. We observe what is happening outside of us. Rarely do we stop and turn our attention inward.

Not to ask what we own, what we like, or what we do for a living, but something much deeper.

How do I feel about this memory?

How do I feel about today's weather?

How do I feel about that tree outside my window?

What did that moment mean to me when I was a child, and what does it mean to me now?

Painting became one of the ways I started exploring those questions.

Over time, what began as an artistic practice became something much more personal. It became a way of paying attention. A way of observing my own thoughts, emotions, memories, and reactions. A way of discovering parts of myself I hadn't noticed before.

Sometimes when somebody tells me, "I know you very well," I can only smile. Because even I don't know myself well enough.

The more I looked inward, the more I realized how little I actually knew about myself. What began as simple questions about emotions, memories, and personal experiences slowly expanded into much larger ones. Questions about consciousness, the soul, eternity, and what it actually means to be alive.

The deeper I go, the more I realize how much there is still left to explore.

Shades of Violet

While painting Shades of Violet, my thoughts often drifted toward questions that have fascinated humanity for centuries.

What is eternity?

What is the soul?

What is it that makes us feel alive?

Different religions, beliefs, and philosophies have their own interpretations of it. Yet no matter how many explanations exist, the mystery remains.

I often find myself thinking about the difference between a living body and a lifeless one. There is something invisible that animates us, something we cannot hold in our hands or observe directly. A presence, an energy, a force that makes us who we are.

Perhaps we will never fully understand it, and perhaps that is perfectly fine. Perhaps some questions are not meant to be solved. They are simply meant to be explored.

The Worlds We Carry

The more I think about it, the more I realize that understanding ourselves has very little to do with collecting facts.

It is not about knowing our favorite color, our profession, or the things we own.

It is about understanding how we experience the world.

How do I feel about beauty?

How do I react to loss?

What memories still live within me?

What experiences shaped the person I became?

What parts of me have changed, and which ones have remained exactly the same?

When we begin asking these questions, something interesting happens. We start comparing our present selves with the people we once were. We begin noticing forgotten memories, old dreams, old fears, old joys. And suddenly, the person we thought we knew becomes much more complex.

Remaining Curious

One of my biggest fears is losing curiosity.

As children, we are fascinated by everything. The world feels endless. Every day brings something new to discover. We ask questions constantly. We look closely. We wonder.

As we grow older, it can sometimes feel as though the world becomes smaller and less exciting.

But I don't think the world changes.

I think we do.

We become more certain. More confident that we already know how things work. We stop asking questions. We stop paying attention. And little by little, we begin to harden.

Sometimes I think of those enormous construction machines with a rotating cylinder that keeps the concrete moving so it doesn't harden. I often think we are not so different.

We need new impressions. New questions. New experiences. Moments of reflection. Moments of wonder. Not only to keep our bodies active, but to keep our minds alive.

Because once we stop moving inward, once we stop questioning and exploring, something inside us begins to stiffen.

And that is something I never want to lose.

Final Thought

This is one of the reasons I paint. Over time, painting became a process of self-discovery through art, allowing me to explore questions that continue to shape how I see myself and the world around me.

Not because I believe art provides answers, but because it gives me a place to explore questions. A place to stay curious. A place to continue discovering what it means to be human.

Painting allows me to slow down and pay attention to the worlds we carry inside ourselves. And perhaps that is why I want to write alongside my paintings as well. Not to explain them completely, but to continue the exploration they began.

Because no matter how long we live, I don't think we ever reach the end of that journey. There is always another question to ask, another memory to revisit, another part of ourselves waiting to be understood.

And perhaps that is what keeps me curious.

"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing." — Albert Einstein