A face is supposed to make sense—eyes aligned, proportions balanced, features predictable. So when a face doesn’t follow those rules, it can feel unsettling… or strangely compelling.
That tension is exactly why I choose to distort the face in my painting.
In this piece, I didn’t set out to create a realistic portrait. Instead, I broke the face into fragments—angular shapes, shifting planes, exaggerated features. The result is something that exists between recognition and abstraction. You can still tell it’s a face, but it resists being fully understood at a glance. That is what I wanted to achieve.
The color choices play into this as well. The purples, reds, and blues aren’t meant to mimic skin tones—they’re emotional tones. They create contrast, tension, and movement across the face.
Distortion also gives me freedom.
When I’m not tied to realism, I can experiment more. I can let shapes overlap in unexpected ways, push proportions beyond what’s “correct,” and respond intuitively to the piece as it evolves. There’s a sense of play in that process—of discovering rather than replicating. Sometimes the most interesting parts of the work come from moments where things don’t go as planned.
We’re often taught—directly or indirectly—that there’s a “right” way to create art. Stay within the lines. Follow the rules of proportion. Make things look accurate. But art doesn’t have to be accurate to be meaningful. In fact, breaking those rules can open up entirely new ways of seeing and feeling.
Distorted faces challenge us. They ask us to look longer, to question what we’re seeing, to sit with a bit of discomfort. And in that space, something deeper can emerge—curiosity, empathy, even recognition.
