The Space Between
A quiet place to rest between sorrow and strength.
The Story Behind The Space Between
Almost everyone has heard of the five stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
But what about the space between?
I created this piece while hovering between denial and anger — a foggy, vast numbness. That strange stretch of time when you know something is coming, but it hasn’t landed yet.
The waves of grief were still breaking on my shore, but they no longer pulled me completely under. This painting lives in that fragile stillness — a pause between pain and processing.
It’s a gentle reminder that grief is not linear. There’s no perfect map. And maybe that’s the point of a journey — it teaches us to live inside the in-between.
Acrylic and Plaster on Canvas
24x30 framed in ash
A quiet place to rest between sorrow and strength.
The Story Behind The Space Between
Almost everyone has heard of the five stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
But what about the space between?
I created this piece while hovering between denial and anger — a foggy, vast numbness. That strange stretch of time when you know something is coming, but it hasn’t landed yet.
The waves of grief were still breaking on my shore, but they no longer pulled me completely under. This painting lives in that fragile stillness — a pause between pain and processing.
It’s a gentle reminder that grief is not linear. There’s no perfect map. And maybe that’s the point of a journey — it teaches us to live inside the in-between.
Acrylic and Plaster on Canvas
24x30 framed in ash
A quiet place to rest between sorrow and strength.
The Story Behind The Space Between
Almost everyone has heard of the five stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
But what about the space between?
I created this piece while hovering between denial and anger — a foggy, vast numbness. That strange stretch of time when you know something is coming, but it hasn’t landed yet.
The waves of grief were still breaking on my shore, but they no longer pulled me completely under. This painting lives in that fragile stillness — a pause between pain and processing.
It’s a gentle reminder that grief is not linear. There’s no perfect map. And maybe that’s the point of a journey — it teaches us to live inside the in-between.
Acrylic and Plaster on Canvas
24x30 framed in ash
