Spirit Guide

Spirit Guide is not a figure in the mythological sense, but a presence that emerges from within — the shape intuition takes when the mind steps aside. At the heart of this work, a form seems to hover — winged, watchful, fluid — not defined by anatomy, but by motion and energy. It isn’t seen, exactly. It’s felt.

This presence is not a god or ghost. It is the part of the self that watches without speaking — the internal compass that surfaces in times of confusion, rupture, or change. Psychologically, it belongs to the terrain Jung called the Self: the larger totality that contains both light and shadow, chaos and form. It is not always visible, but in moments of deep emotion, it manifests — not to explain, but to guide.

The colors around it spiral, burn, swell. They are not decorative. They are affective states: movement, tension, resistance, release. There is no linear narrative here — only a psychic climate. The guide exists not above it, but within it, like a pattern slowly forming inside a storm.

The shapes emerge, dissolve, re-emerge — inviting the viewer to wander through the landscape of the unconscious.
To look at this painting is not to decipher it, but to track something — a pulse, a signal — that knows its way even when you don’t. Spirit Guide is not there to rescue. It is there to remind you that something inside you still knows how to move forward.

The painting is not decorative. It is alive. It vibrates with an internal logic, one rooted in emotion, intuition, and an unfiltered desire to express. It suggests that art is not always the result of control, but often of surrender — and that within surrender lies a deeper, more essential truth.

To encounter this piece is to be reminded that life is not always meant to be understood — only fully felt.