Reckoning with the Unconscious #18

Watercolor on 9" x 12" coldpress paper
Original (one-of-a-kind)

In many ancient Mesoamerican stories, the earth was not imagined as solid ground. It was alive. Land rising from water, forests growing from the back of a great creature resting beneath the surface. The world itself carried by something ancient and watchful. It is a way of seeing that feels very different from the modern one, and spending time in the Yucatán, it starts to make a certain kind of sense.

There is a part of us that lives in plain sight, shaped by years, responsibilities, and the slow architecture of identity. And another part that waits just beneath the surface. Not dangerous. Not loud. Just ancient. As we move through life, these two begin to share space. The cultivated and the wild. The inherited and the discovered. The human story we tell and the older rhythm that hums underneath it. Neither cancels the other out. When they coexist, the self stops feeling like a fixed shape and starts feeling more like a landscape. Layered, alive, and full of unexpected openings.

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