Apollonia

There’s a particular kind of energy I’m drawn to — the tension between beauty and darkness, softness and edge. This piece came from that place. She’s painted in the tradition of portraiture, but she doesn’t belong to any quiet parlor wall. She belongs somewhere alive, somewhere that feels a little dangerous and a little honest. The skeleton hand resting against her cheek isn’t meant to frighten — it’s meant to ask a question: what holds us up when we’re barely holding on? The lavender behind her keeps the mood from going too dark. It breathes. It lingers. That’s intentional.

I’ve been a figure painter my whole career, and what I keep coming back to is the face — the way a human face can carry everything unsaid. This painting brings a dramatic, electric atmosphere to a space without overwhelming it. That deep purple wash gives it warmth in its own unconventional way, and the bold contrast of black, white, and red creates movement that pulls you in from across the room. If you’re looking for something that sparks a conversation, challenges a space, and reminds whoever walks by that art is supposed to make you feel something — this piece does that work effectively and completely.

Original oil on stretched canvas — 16 × 20 inches, framed and ready to hang.