When the Noise Fell Silent

Oil/Mixed media on paper, 12" x 19", 2025

A woman’s face hovers in stillness, her eyes closed as if listening to something far beneath the surface of sound. Her head is laced with delicate telephone wires—threads of thought, memory, and unseen voices stretched thin across an unseen sky. They tether her to old echoes, conversations long past, some tender, others corrosive, humming with the residue of what once felt essential.
Around her, the atmosphere swirls in expressive, storm-broken gestures—marks that speak in the language of weathered emotions. The sky is not sky, but feeling made visible: jagged, electric, aching. The storm is not outside her—it is of her, through her, the chaos of being too long entangled in what does not nurture.
And yet, beneath it all, there is quiet. She does not resist the storm; she listens to it. In this moment of inner descent, the wires begin to loosen. Not torn, but released. What was noise becomes distance. What was weight becomes wind.
'When the Noise Fell Silent' is a meditation on trauma and fragmentation, but more so on the strange grace of letting go—of disconnecting from those who dim the self, in order to return to it. It is about the healing that comes not with force, but with surrender. In the hush of disconnection, she is not lost. She is reassembling—cell by cell, silence by silence.