THIS IS, not I AM.

The idea of beauty without comfort is central to understanding art that matters. Paintings are not pets. They do not exist to soothe, to affirm, or to be tamed. The belief that art should console the viewer weighs down the dynamic between artwork and audience. That gravity—the need for art to heal, to befriend, to serve—misses the point entirely.

Art does not exist to reflect our emotional needs. It exists to lift us out of them. To pull us beyond the glue of our own making. True art disturbs our equilibrium. It interrupts. It shakes loose the narratives we've built around ourselves. It is not a therapist, a brand, or a companion. It does not owe you safety.

Art must be seen as a living entity. One that can appear and vanish as it pleases. It is not a product in service of meaning, nor an illustration of marketable verbiage. The moment we ask art to confirm who we are, we kill its capacity to move us.

You cannot be friends with a painting. You shouldn’t want to be.

Art should leave you a little on edge. It should provoke—not because it is cruel, but because it is awake. It should activate a deeper energy within you, not just intellectually, but existentially. It does not point back to you. It points beyond you.

Art catalyzes the shift from I AM to THIS IS.

“I AM” is separation. It names, categorizes, isolates. “THIS IS” is presence. It is total. It is indivisible. And this is what great art offers—not belief, but awareness. Not answers, but openings. Not identity, but experience.

Art doesn’t hold your hand. It opens the door. You walk through—alone, awake, alert.