48in x 24in

It had been a few years since I'd done a self portrait before this painting. I think I didn't want to know what I looked like after the dust settled from all the things. Or what I might see. Like when you fall and hear a snap; you feel it hurt but can't bare to look.

If you've ever been deep in grief, the kind you want to crawl out of. The kind that regularly makes you want to scream, but you don't because it also disconnects you from your voice and your words. The kind that keeps you wandering around in your dreams searching with your arms out, reaching for solace. Reaching for ground to steady.

That is where I was when I painted Agüitada.

It was a hard one to face.

When I see myself here next to her I see myself finally starting to steady from the pain. I don't know what healed looks like, since it means that wound stays shut beyond a scab. But I know a steadiness with a pain that visits without regard like an old but thoughtless friend.

My mom would say, "no te agüites," her translation was, "Don't despair."

"Life doesn't have to be complicated, you just have to live it."