Here on this page, with my brushes finally at rest, I begin the reflection that has lived inside me long before this painting existed. My Shadow Self‑Portrait, 2026, is not a story I invented — it is the story of how blue shaped me from childhood onward.
I was seven years old, forehead pressed to the backseat window of my parents’ car, hungry for the world outside, reserved in my magical universe inside. On Marine Drive in Vancouver, a billboard rose above the road — enormous, impossible to ignore. Gainsborough’s Blue Boy. His gaze met mine with a confidence I didn’t yet have words for. He stood there in that impossible blue: poised, elegant, utterly self‑possessed.
Something in me cracked open.
Something in me recognized itself.
I didn’t know then that this shade — that same shade — would become a lifelong companion. My mother dressed me in clothes she made herself, often from old linen drapes in whimsical tones, giving them a Renaissance feel. I remember her hands guiding fabric and thread, transforming the ordinary into something extraordinary. Those moments with her imprinted themselves on me like a quiet prophecy—art and love intertwined. It’s no wonder I became a designer, always creating in the memory of her creativity and care. I wish she were around to hear the stories I’m exploring now.
As I came to understand colour, I always wore black on the outside, while the colours that spoke of my flourishing thoughts, secretly coursing through my veins, quietly took up space. But blue, like the colour in my veins, lived in my bloodstream forever. It shaped my imagination, my sense of presence, and my understanding of beauty.
So if anyone asks why this portrait carries this shade, the answer is simple:
It’s not a phase.
Not a period.
Not a mood.
It’s memory — mesmerizing, formative, alive.
It taught me how to see.
It taught me how to create.
And now, in this 2026 self‑portrait, blue becomes the colour of my shadow — now and forever, the thread that ties memory, self, and vision together.
Here, I stand wrapped in billowed silk, the fabric moving like breath around me. I feel a quiet worthiness in it — the same poise I saw on that billboard as a child, but now claimed, inhabited, and earned. My gaze is steady. My choker carries my emblem of authenticity, my mark in this world and the worlds I visit beyond. I am bracing for the next chapter, where darkness has never been my enemy but my guide.
My shadow self lives deep within me — restless, shifting, honest. She is the keeper of what the light cannot hold. She carries my scars, my demons, my private truths. She walks with me through the veil’s darker corners, teaching me how to see in low light.
Against my chest, I hold my messenger — the rabbit. Curious, alert, ready for the journey ahead. Together, we travel into realms we once only dreamed of. Time is not my adversary; it is my rescuer in the night. I have met my demons face-to-face. Some vanished, some remain, but we have learned to breathe together. Each scar has become a mark of grace.
I am filled with pride and gratitude for the distances I have travelled. My age has lost its meaning. My face and body wear their bruises openly now — each line a testament, each mark a doorway. For the first time, I let my scars show without apology. Growing older has given me more than wisdom. It has given me freedom and the courage to always be who I was meant to be, an artist with a spoken word.
I move forward carrying my truths, guided by vision and the sacredness of being whole. Privacy remains my sanctuary. Strength was given to me at birth. Now I reveal only what is genuine, without fear.
My inspiration for this piece was the memory of that billboard and of Thomas Gainsborough's The Blue Boy. The very first piece of art I ever witnessed was before I even knew there was art in the world or why it was called art. That singular moment—and that unforgettable image—carries so much sensory imagery I can’t shake the luxurious feeling it evokes in my everyday life. It comforts me on sad days and challenges me on days when it expects more of me.
Each brushstroke is a way to honour and embrace the moments I experienced with my family—especially my mother—and her unique way of seeing the world. As she always said, "Open your eyes, look, do it again, don't give up." The memory of her sewing dresses from linen drapes—her hands patient and steady—feels stitched into every layer of this painting. Our quiet afternoons spent creating, her gentle corrections, and the stories she told remind me that art and love have always been intertwined in my life.
This work is born of the memory of a curiously innocent girl who wanted more inspiration in life than she had, wrapped in tones that followed her everywhere. In secret, we formed a bond, carrying hope, courage, and freedom toward the veil where my next hidden realm awaits me.
-G
