…Speaking in Color

I was so overwhelmed with emotions that I couldn’t find the words to communicate with.

Silence felt safer, easier. But the canvas always listened. A brush, a splash of paint, the smell of turpentine—it became my first language.

Anger turned into red. Grief into heavy textures. Joy into light. Somehow, people understood me better through color than they ever could through sentences.

What’s beautiful is this: a painting I create from some traumatic experience doesn’t stay trapped in that story. Once someone takes it home, it becomes something new—joy, beauty, light in their space. My pain becomes their comfort. That alchemy is what keeps me painting.

That’s what my book is about—not just paintings, but the stories they carry. Art as a way of surviving, remembering, and beginning again.

When I paint, I’m not chasing beauty. I’m telling the truth.

And maybe, through these pages, you’ll hear what I’ve been saying all along.

With love,

Velvet 🤍