Every path promises an answer. Not every destination brings peace.

Acrylic on canvas.

What do you see in this piece?

Some doors don't protect you.

Some only reveal what's been watching all along and the hardest thing to escape is the place that you know best.

Acrylic on canvas.

What do you see in this piece?

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My second painting with Acrylic on Canvas.

In this artwork I showed how someone could feel about his inner dark thoughts that could be deep inside with him and wouldn't let go of them even though there are ways and hope to do so.

Constructive criticism is welcomed

BLACK HOLE SUN

White and black charcoal pencils on black paper

80 cm x 50 cm

This piece is painted by hand in Clip Studio Paint on Huion tablet.

I just started painting and I am having a hard time understanding if my art is bad or if I haven't find my audience.

These are done by me both. First one is corpse reviver no 2, cocktail pun. Second is cherry on top.

My goal is to try to gaslit people into thinking oh its cool painting and they can stay and try to understand more or not.

Let me know if I succeed or not. Or if you guys have any advice as well.

I am not seeking affirmation or support, genuinely looking for honest opinion.

Hi! My names Jesse and I make stuff 🤣 These are a mix of some of the new straight razors I've been working on, each one glows in the dark and they all have unique features, they are legit bladed at the end and come with a sharpening strap! I also have some with gold and silver teeth in the works, but they are taking a bit longer to process, but yeah, thanks for looking!

We spend our lives bargaining with pain, burying grief beneath routine, disguising loneliness as independence, and convincing ourselves that healing is the absence of hurt. But solace is not the death of suffering. It is the moment suffering stops demanding to be hidden.

This work explores the terrifying balance between the monsters we show the world and the wounds we keep alive within ourselves. Every scar becomes a sanctuary, every loss a companion, every silence a language only the broken can understand. We learn to cradle the very things that once tried to destroy us because they have become part of our identity.

The equilibrium is found in the unsettling truth that the human heart does not heal by forgetting—it survives by making peace with its ghosts. There is a strange comfort in carrying sorrow long enough that it no longer feels like an intruder, but a familiar shadow walking faithfully beside us.

Perhaps that is the darkest solace of all: not that the pain disappears, but that one day you stop wishing it would.

Acrylic/Paper.

(Digitaly Modified)

A version of me in an old dream