She stood there, mid-sentence, red-faced and wild-eyed, in the middle of the god-awful dinner party, her finger jabbing the air like it had some holy mission. You could feel the room tense as if the walls themselves were recoiling. The laugh—if you could call it that—split her face wide open, teeth bared like she was about to devour us all. She wore that blue dress, the one we all pretended to like because, well, no one had the guts to tell her it made her look like an overripe fruit. But in that moment, it wasn’t just her dress, or her shrill, theatrical voice—it was her. Every sneer, every snide comment, every simmering resentment out there in the open, full volume.

And we watched. Of course, we did. How could you not? It was grotesque, sure, but it was also...captivating. You couldn’t look away. It was like someone had painted her with a brush dipped in rage and frustration, and the colors were bleeding through her skin. The whole thing was awful. And beautiful. And more than anything, real. This is what happens when you stop pretending. When the mask slips. When you stop caring if people are watching.

Original artwork. Unframed. Oil Pastel on paper. 13" x 16 " with an additional .25“ border. The artwork will arrive rolled in a rigid mailing tube.

Returns of undamaged artwork in its original condition are accepted within 30 days of the purchaser receiving delivery. The buyer pays return shipping costs.