Eclipse of Self

The Archibald Prize has long sought to capture more than likeness; but reveal something essential about the human experience. In that spirit, I submitted a different piece, for me at least, titled: "Eclipse of Self," In "Eclipse of Self," I explore the illusion of self—what we believe we are versus what remains when the falsehoods fall away. This self-portrait is not about external transformation, but the inner excavation required to dismantle inherited fears, conditioned beliefs, and identities that no longer serve us. The left side, veiled in darkness and lunar silence, represents the subconscious weight we carry—ideas absorbed before they were ever questioned. The right side, though lighter, is not an arrival but an unfolding—a space of quiet clarity, where truth emerges not through addition, but through subtraction. Between them lies a rupture, visceral and raw, not a wound but an opening. The ladder embedded within the depths does not lead outward, but downward—a descent into the self before any real ascent can begin. It speaks to the uncomfortable but necessary journey inward, the confrontation with our own shadows, and the difficult work of facing the inner voices that whisper our limitations. At the heart of this piece is the exploded chest—not an act of destruction, but of release. A cavity once filled with suffering is now laced with gold, echoing the philosophy of Kintsugi—the Japanese art of repairing the broken with precious metal. True healing is not found in erasure, but in embracing the very fractures we once tried to hide. Etched onto the light side of the heart, a lion motif emerges—strength, not as force, but as the quiet, unwavering courage to sit with oneself in stillness, to let go rather than accumulate, to reclaim what was always there beneath the noise.