Borken Heart

There's something quietly devastating about a heart that holds its shape even as it fractures. Broken Heart came out of an experiment with modeling paste — I applied it thick, then let it crack. Not randomly, not violently. Controlled. Like the way real heartbreak works: not a sudden shatter, but a slow, deliberate splitting along invisible fault lines you didn't know were there. The blue is pale, almost icy — a color I associate with absence more than with sadness. It sits against the off-white canvas like a held breath. And yet the heart is still whole. Still a heart. That's the part that gets me. You can be cracked all the way through and still hold your form. Still be recognizable. Still be love.