Anger

Anger gets a bad rap. It’s associated with excess, with a loss of control, with something that should be suppressed or tamed. *My Anger* sets out to challenge this interpretation with a philosophy that may seem absurd to others, but makes perfect sense to my soul, my mind, and my understanding of the world. In this work, anger is not an outburst—it is proof. Proof that we loved enough to be vulnerable. That we opened a door, offered something precious, and that this something was mistreated. We do not get angry at the indifferent or the stranger. True anger—the kind I have tried to paint—exists only in proportion to the love and esteem we have given. What I’m proposing in this painting is pure tenderness: to reclaim anger as an act of self-love. That protective instinct that rises up when no one else does. That inner voice that says, “No, you deserved better”—and is right. I carefully distinguish between anger and rage. One is healthy, human, necessary—the signal of an injustice suffered by someone who mattered. The other is a different conversation altogether. *Anger* is a dedication. To all those who loved deeply and were broken in return. And a permission—to feel, without shame or apology, what they have every right to feel.