Implosion

At its center is a dead black pit — the void in the brain where dopamine once flowed freely. For me, that darkness represents the diagnosis itself. The shock. The silence. The space where certainty used to live.

But the painting isn’t just about the pit.

The color, the texture, the aggression of the palette knife — all of it came out fast and thick. I didn’t know how to paint. I didn’t care. I only knew I needed to move paint the way I’ve always moved through life — with force, intention, and resistance. I used scrapers and spatulas, laying it on heavy, carving into it, pushing against the canvas. The movement in the piece mirrors what’s happening inside my brain — disruption, chaos, energy trying to reroute.

Parkinson’s created the void.

But it also created the eruption around it.

The lines and motion announce something I didn’t expect: this disease didn’t shut me down — it cracked something open.