Ghosts of Kyiv

This piece didn’t start with a headline. It didn’t even start with intent. It started like most ghosts do—quietly, under the surface. As the war in Ukraine unfolded, this work took shape without knowing what it was trying to say. Only when the paint dried did it speak: Ghosts of Kyiv.

It’s not a political piece. It’s a human one. A visual echo of strength, grief, and quiet, unshakeable hope. The fractured shapes of home, the horizon like a pulse, the stillness above and below—this is what memory feels like when it’s under siege.

The gold leaf was never decorative. It was a declaration. That beauty still finds its way through ash. That hope has weight. The resin, poured like armour, seals in that resilience—the kind you don’t choose, but live anyway.

This one haunted me before I knew its name. Now it just won’t let go.