Lyra - 24" x 32" Print

She is called Lyra, named after the constellation her mother whispered about during sleepless nights—when the world felt too heavy and hope too thin. Born into chaos but drawn toward clarity, Lyra grew up knowing that silence often speaks louder than words.

This moment in the painting captures her at the edge of transformation. Her gaze is lifted—not in surrender, but in defiance. The glasses are not armor, but vision—protection for seeing truth in its rawest form. The blue cascading from her head isn’t just hair, but energy: memory, emotion, momentum. Yellow streaks glimmer like old wounds healing in the light.

She has seen darkness and still chooses to rise.

Those indigo marks around her eye aren't tears; they’re echoes of dreams she refused to abandon. Lyra stands between shadow and sky, between pain and power, floating in that rare place where gravity meets grace.

She doesn’t wait for permission. She simply ascends.