As we usher in the Lunar New Year on January 29th, 2025, I find myself reflecting on the artistic journey that has marked the beginning of this auspicious year (just me, personally). The transition from the fiery chaos of the Wood Dragon to the harmonious wisdom of the Wood Snake brings with it a promise of creativity and intuitive power that resonates deeply with my recent artistic endeavors.
In the early days of January, I completed a painting that had been gestating in my mind for months: “The Sisterhood of Dreams.” This piece represents another departure from my usual goth girl aesthetic, instead embracing serene blue ladies in slumber. The inspiration for this work struck during a trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where I was preparing for an art exhibit. Amidst the vibrant street art scene, a particular piece caught my eye—two women in repose. This image planted the seed for my own interpretation.
My painting features a background of fragmented/broken Van Gogh-esque swirls, symbolizing the delicate nature of the dream world—a reality on the verge of dissipating with each moment of approaching wakefulness. This visual metaphor poses questions about our existence: Are we witnessing an ideal plane of delta wave sleep, or perhaps a representation of our reality teetering on the edge of spiritual awakening? In a nod to celestial sisterhood, I incorporated the Pleiades constellation, known as the Seven Sisters, as a subtle embellishment on a kimono. This deliberate addition serves as a personal symbol, distinct from the collective unconscious or my own subconscious mind.
This piece marks another temporary suspension of my gothic tendencies in favor of a more geisha-inspired aesthetic. However, I anticipate going back to my old tricks of infusing both styles again, as my artistic journey continues to evolve.
My artistic voice is shapeshifting. Maybe the hard edges of my gothic aesthetic are breathing, expanding—like how water finds its own path, carving new channels while remembering its source. Jung would have loved this, I think. The way our inner landscapes refuse to be mapped, always shifting, always revealing and concealing.
What emerges when we allow ourselves to drift? When we suspend our expectations and simply… observe?
Just wondering. Always wondering.
Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m wrong.
—Bro the Painter