Medium: Acrylic Paint, Gouache, CD shards, Gold felt
A self portrait about being so repressed that pure light bursts out of my skull. The shape of this one was super important, I wanted it to look like a church towering over me. I live(d) in an area with a ton of church all within five minutes of each other, we are talking maybe seven within a relatively short walk of each other. I wasn't raised religious, but my mom's side went to school with nuns and that sort of thing, so the religious morals guilt was still kinda passed on. I also just enjoy the look of colorful windows and would go to church for the sole purpose of looking at all the windows and tall ceilings from the inside.
If I were to do this one again, I'd try to make it a bit more violent. Not, like, bloody, but I would maybe make the expression more panicked and the hands gripping a bit harder. Speaking of hands, this piece is related to this self portrait, Cold Hands. The meaning of both are very related.
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