Queen of Lies
A double self-portrait that exposes the tension between surface and self. One face is vibrant, refined, almost glowing—crafted with precision and care. The other is raw, bruised, loosely rendered. Unfiltered. Together, they lie mirrored yet misaligned, like a playing card—two versions of the same person, one curated, one concealed.

This painting is a reflection on duality: the version we show to the world, and the one we live with privately. It critiques the pressure to perform beauty, to polish ourselves for public view while our real selves remain fractured, exhausted, unseen. Both faces lie motionless, drained—knocked out, perhaps by the effort of keeping up the illusion.

The central space between them becomes a silent conversation, a negative space where the disconnect between internal truth and external image lingers. Queen of Lies asks: which version is real? And what do we lose in maintaining the mask?