It’s Over

Acrylic 190cm x 135cm

Wooden tray frame included

It’s a portrait, but it feels like a world.

Larger than life, her face dominates the canvas—not in arrogance, but in arrival. The first thing you notice is her laugh. It lives in her eyes, wide and bright, crinkled at the edges like the corners of a letter read too many times. Her mouth is open in mid-laughter, not staged or still—caught in the breath of it, like the moment just after something breaks open inside you and you realize: you survived.

The background is a blend of rich green and quiet grey, with hints of oak—the warm brown of healing, the bark of things that last. The green is alive, vibrant like leaves finally pushing through after too long a winter. Grey swirls behind her like the last of the storm clouds retreating—never fully gone, but no longer feared. The oak shades cradle her, anchoring her in something ancient and strong. Her hair catches traces of that oak, wavy and wild, a crown she never asked for but earned.

There’s a single streak down one cheek—not fresh, not wet. A tear once cried, long ago, that dried on her face and was never wiped away. It stayed as proof, a badge. But it does not dull her beauty—it sharpens it. It says, “I have known the dark. I remember.”

And yet, the portrait breathes light. Her skin is soft, flushed, alive. Her eyes hold stories, but they’re no longer haunted. They are present. They see you. And in their gaze is a gift: a silent message that whatever you carry, you can set it down. That she did. That it’s over now. She doesn’t smile because everything was easy.

She laughs because she is free