I paint people who don’t talk about their feelings.
The ones who sit at the edge of the room at family events. Who shrug instead of answer. Who say “I’m fine” like it’s a full stop.
They don’t always know how to put things into words. Not because they’re cold or distant—but because somewhere along the way, they learned silence was safer than honesty.
Maybe no one ever asked.
Maybe when they did speak, it was ignored. Or punished. Or misunderstood.
I don’t think silence means there’s nothing there.
I think it often means there’s too much.
When I paint, I’m not trying to capture a likeness. I’m trying to make visible the emotional residue—the weight people carry when they’ve been quiet for too long.
Grief with nowhere to go.
Anger that’s never been named.
Tenderness that’s never been allowed.
A lot of the people I paint are imagined, but they’re stitched together from real people I’ve known: a friend, a stranger on the bus, a neighbour who always nods but never speaks.
This kind of emotional invisibility can be easy to overlook. It’s not dramatic. It’s not obvious. But it’s everywhere.
Sometimes I wonder how many people in our lives are quietly carrying stories that have never been told.
And how many of them are men who were never given the language—or the permission—to share them.
Painting gives me a way to hold that space.
Not to force anything out. Just to make room for what’s already there.
Sometimes people look at my work and say, “He looks lost.”
Or “He looks like he’s about to cry but doesn’t know why.”
And I think—yes. That’s exactly it.
Not everyone will see that.
Some people will scroll past or say it’s “a bit heavy.”
That’s okay.
I didn’t start painting to make people comfortable.
I started painting to feel less alone—and maybe help someone else feel that too.
If you’ve ever grown up with someone who didn’t know how to express what they were feeling—or if that someone is you—I just want you to know:
There’s nothing wrong with the quiet.
There’s often more truth in it than we realise.
Have you ever felt emotionally invisible, or known someone who has?
You don’t have to share the full story. Even one word is enough.