Interfold

Fieldnote: A kind of posture. A way of continuing without permission.

It wasn’t meant to be defiance, but maybe that’s the shape it took. Not the loud kind, the other kind. The kind that sits in the corner of the room, observing, and doesn’t play along. I didn’t stitch the mouth shut to speak through it. Some things ask to be held quietly. There’s something deeply resilient in that, silence not as surrender, but as signal. Low-frequency. Calibrated. Intentional. A form of resistance shaped slowly, through pressure and solitude. Because even the gentlest truths can shift the room. There’s safety in the fold. There’s clarity in not naming. I let the silence stay, not as surrender, but as something else. A kind of posture. A way of continuing without permission.

Still, I keep thinking about what folds and what holds. What stays near the surface and what recurs quietly underneath. There's no crash, just the breath you hold waiting for one. I’ve looped back to this version of myself more than once. Not to rewrite her, but to let her remain, suspended. That’s what this painting is, I think. Not a statement. Just a structure I needed to build to see if the echo would stay.

Everyone has their own rebellion.