I often think about the pieces created when something breaks, whether physically or metaphorically. Sharp shards; sometimes so small that, if they cut you, you won’t even be able to see them. Sometimes, these pieces are created because cracks have opened and come off little by little; other times, they form suddenly, almost violently, with some shock that can shake us.
I know well that this is not always negative: there are useful, almost necessary breakages. Changes that bring new things, although sometimes they leave some splinters stuck. But I feel that there are also breaks that give birth to new pain and suffering, new needles that prick and tear. A meaningless pain that only leaves spirals of stinging.
June 2024, Colored pencils on paper, 11 in x 14 in
Beatriz Alonso Carvajales 