Where the sacred goes, a woman.
Old religious painting put its saints dead center — venerated, lit, untouchable, the whole composition bent around them. Saints borrows those poses and puts a woman in that position and means it. Not the muse off to the side. The icon at the center, and the power that position carries.
Look closer and the figures around her are also her — the same woman, venerating herself, kneeling at her own edges. The surreal objects keep it from resolving too cleanly: the cage, the relics, reverence and unease held in the same frame. The series doesn't explain her. It puts her where the sacred goes — without her, none of the rest of it — and lets the contradiction stand.




