My grandmother was a surrealist painter. The first painting that comes to mind is one she did of a couple, he in a tux and she in a long flowing gown. They're meeting someplace that looks like the moon, and instead of heads on their bodies, he has a rose and she has a butterfly. I was thinking about creating an image with flowers as eyes, like embedded blossoms. Then I wondered what it would look like if the eye sockets themselves were blossom shaped. Here's what came out. It's kind of Fantastic Planet.
I wanted to draw a picture of love, whatever that means to me. The first thing that came to mind was dancing. I also though about self-love and unabashed self-care. Really simple gestures, like running my hand through my hair or moving my body in a way that feels good, can sometimes feel verbotten and I often feel guilt and hesitancy. So, love, to me, was characterized by a freedom of movement. Love was characterized by an indulgence in physical expression without guilt or second thought.