Apocalypse Kids
42 x 60"
Charcoal, Acrylic, Watercolor, Ink
 
Three children gather at the edge of the world for the end of the world. Their bodies are small, faces prematurely solemn, as if they have inherited a future before understanding what was taken from it.
 
One child grips a gun too large for his hands, not in triumph but in imitation—violence learned the way language is learned, through repetition and proximity. Another leans forward, chin resting on folded arms, a red flower blooming where an eye should be: beauty and injury occupying the same space.
 
Behind them, an ornate chair rises like a relic of authority, decorative and empty. The green sky and meadow in the background offer no comfort; they feel staged, a backdrop to a narrative already decided. Childhood here is not a sanctuary but a threshold - slowly shaped into the quiet normalization of catastrophe.