“My Mental Room” is a cartography of obsessive thoughts, anxiety loops, and the fragile architecture of resilience rooted in my personal experience of living with OCD and navigating mental health. Each drawing acts to trap an emotion on paper so that it can neither dissolve nor overwhelm me.
The deliberate restriction to black and white is my attempt at honesty—the binary clarity of thought when it is stripped of all decorative noise. The single red element is not an ornament but a pulse, a wound, a living organ embedded in a frozen frame.
In these rooms, space is psychological rather than physical. Their furniture is made of rituals, their walls of intrusive memories, and their windows—if they exist—open into uncertain skies.
This work exists at the intersection of self-documentation and universal metaphor. While the work details my own personal experience, each image also addresses a broader human condition: the need to map, to frame, to understand the parts of ourselves that remain invisible to others.
“My Mental Room” is a cartography of obsessive thoughts, anxiety loops, and the fragile architecture of resilience rooted in my personal experience of living with OCD and navigating mental health. Each drawing acts to trap an emotion on paper so that it can neither dissolve nor overwhelm me.
The deliberate restriction to black and white is my attempt at honesty—the binary clarity of thought when it is stripped of all decorative noise. The single red element is not an ornament but a pulse, a wound, a living organ embedded in a frozen frame.
In these rooms, space is psychological rather than physical. Their furniture is made of rituals, their walls of intrusive memories, and their windows—if they exist—open into uncertain skies.
This work exists at the intersection of self-documentation and universal metaphor. While the work details my own personal experience, each image also addresses a broader human condition: the need to map, to frame, to understand the parts of ourselves that remain invisible to others.