Mixed media on canvas.

Height: 60 cm
Length: 60 cm

Strawberry Kiwi emerges at a time when everything moves forward, but nothing seems to be heading anywhere. Life becomes straight, repetitive, almost mechanical. There is no evident tragedy, only a persistent feeling of emptiness, as if days slide over one another without leaving a mark.

The pink background is not cheerful. It is a forced, saturated color that tries to simulate vitality while cracking with gray smudges and harsh strokes. This is where the contradiction lies: wanting to feel something different when everything inside feels flat, tired, stagnant. The background doesn't accompany the character; it pressures them.

The scattered objects and symbols—lines, marks, and incomplete letters—function as remnants of thought. Ideas that appear and disappear, half-formed intentions, mental noise that doesn't organize itself. They don't build a clear discourse: they interrupt, like intrusive thoughts that persist when everything seems to be on autopilot.

The face is the core of the work. The crossed-out eyes do not look outward; they retreat. There is a denial of the present, but also a deep weariness of always seeing the same thing. The rigid, almost sealed mouth does not express anger or open sadness: it expresses emotional exhaustion. It is the gesture of someone who continues to exist even when motivation has dissolved.

The figure, compact and enclosed within itself, conveys evolution without celebration. It is no longer the same as at the beginning of the year, but the change doesn't feel luminous, but rather silent. Growing here is not advancing: it is resisting wear and tear. There is solitude in the body, a soft nostalgia typical of cycle endings, of dates that invite one to look back and measure what remained unfinished.

Portraying another person thus becomes an intimate act: not to describe them, but to accompany one's own isolation. Painting is a way to not be alone with one's mind, to give a face to what weighs heavily and still has no name.

Strawberry Kiwi doesn't speak of collapse. It speaks of a slow stagnation, of eroding thoughts, of a transformation that occurs without applause. It is the image of someone who is still here, even when everything seems to make no sense.