Behind the Painting: “Flame of Her”

By Monicartist

I didn’t start this painting with a clear image in mind. There was no sketch, no plan — just a deep ache in my chest that wanted to come out somehow. The studio was quiet that morning. I remember staring at the blank canvas for a long time, feeling that familiar heaviness — that mix of exhaustion, sadness, and longing I know too well. And then, I just began to paint.

The first colours were deep, almost bruised reds — the kind that hold both beauty and pain. As they spread across the canvas, something started to shift inside me. The brushstrokes softened. Layers built upon layers. It felt like my emotions were taking shape through petals — fragile, but somehow powerful.

I didn’t realise it at first, but Flame of Her became a reflection of my own journey — from burnout and trauma, from the parts of life that broke me down. There was a time when I couldn’t see the light in anything, when even getting out of bed felt impossible. My body hurt, my spirit felt numb, and I was tired of pretending to be “fine.”

Painting became my way back. Every stroke was like a breath, every layer a reminder that I was still here — still capable of creating something beautiful even when I felt broken. The peony in Flame of Her is more than a flower to me; it’s a metaphor for what it means to rise quietly from pain.

This painting holds both my fire and my softness. The fire isn’t angry or loud — it’s steady, healing, alive. It’s that inner strength that keeps you going when no one sees what you’re carrying. It’s the flame that says, “I’m still here, and I’m still becoming.”

When I look at this piece now, I don’t just see petals and light — I see the woman I was while painting it. The one who was learning how to breathe again, how to believe again. It’s not about being strong all the time; it’s about allowing yourself to be vulnerable, messy, human — and still rise.

Flame of Her reminds me that there’s beauty in our scars, light in our shadows, and quiet courage in every act of starting again. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt like their light went out — a reminder that the flame never truly disappears. Sometimes it just needs space, softness, and a little love to return.