marysaysmeh

Just For Me


This particular painting brings me so much joy. It feels like a self-portrait without a face — a piece where you’re not trying to depict yourself, but instead, it’s a piece that captures the essence of everything you are.

This piece marks the moment when I stopped painting what I thought I should and started painting what I felt. It’s chaotic, layered, and loud, but underneath it is a quiet certainty. It was the first time I felt freedom on a canvas. The first time, I didn’t ask the painting what it wanted to be and just let it be.

The verticality of the drips contrasts beautifully with the sharp horizontal lines, and the energy shifts across the canvas like a heatwave—glowing in reds, oranges, and purples that feel like buzzing.

This piece marks a personal shift. After years of acrylic pours and techniques that felt safe—or expected—I picked up tools I’d never used, swapped brushes for objects, and let intuition lead. It was messy, loud, and exciting. This is where I found my own rhythm for the first time and started to think of curating a personal “style” (whatever that evolving term means). This piece was the moment I stopped painting for approval and started painting for myself.

When reevaluating this piece again, an undeniable spark stands out in its energy. It doesn’t feel like I was trying to impress anyone, prove anything, or even resolve a deep concept. It felt like I was finally having a conversation with myself through color and motion—and trusting that was enough—painting just for the enjoyment of painting.

There’s something rebellious in it, but also really joyful. It doesn’t apologize for the boldness of its palette or the tension in its composition — it owns the color, the motion, the noise. It’s playful and a little messy in the best way — like a life lived fully.

It’s not “perfect.”

It’s personal.

And that’s the exact moment an artist’s voice begins to emerge — when the work becomes less about the viewer and more about what happens in the studio when no one’s watching.

I realized I didn’t have to earn the title of being an artist — I already was one.

One of my favorite quotes perfectly pertains to this sentiment:

“You say ‘amateur’ as if it were a dirty word. ‘Amateur’ comes from the Latin word ‘amare,’ which means to love. To do things for the love of it.”