Creative reflections on an artist's life, place, and the joy in between

In 2016, I visited the Borghese Gallery in Rome, and found myself face-to-face with a moment carved in marble — Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s Abduction of Proserpina. It’s a sculpture that’s nearly impossible to look away from. The emotional tension. The spiraling motion. The way Pluto’s hands appear to sink into flesh, even though it’s stone.

One detail captured me: Proserpina’s face, frozen in resistance and grace, framed against the decadent backdrop of the gallery. I took a photo — not just as a reference, but as a spark that stayed with me long after I left Italy.

From Marble to Paint

I am now working through this painting as a personal homage to that encounter. I wasn’t interested in copying Bernini. Instead, I wanted to translate the feeling of that moment. The resistance. The defiance. The divine sadness.

Working with oil paint, this detail shot captures a point where emotion began to emerge — her gaze, slightly turned, a glint of light under the brow, softness meeting severity.

Why This Piece Matters to Me

This work marks a turning point in how I’m thinking about my art. I’ve been questioning how much story and structure I want to include in each painting. With this one, the tension between the old and new, between reference and invention, felt like the right space to explore.

It’s also part of a broader shift. I’m committing to deeper deliberate practice — studying tonal range, brushwork, and emotional depth in every piece I make. This painting is just one step, but it’s a meaningful one.

The Ongoing Dialogue

I often think about how we inherit inspiration. Bernini interpreted Ovid. I’m interpreting Bernini. Maybe someone will someday interpret my work, too. Art isn’t static — it’s a conversation across time.