I painted Hallow of Inertia during a moment of unexpected inspiration, not realizing then how important it would become in shaping the monochromatic, lonely-girl atmosphere that now threads through so many of my pieces. In this work, I imagined her as a small, dreamy forest creature, something between a fairy and a wanderer, who has grown tired of searching and allowed herself to drift into sleep on a bed of soft grass. It’s as if she became lost, and instead of fighting her way back, she surrendered to the quiet. Her slumber draws from Newton’s law of inertia: the idea that an object will remain in its state unless acted upon. To me, that became a metaphor for the kind of laziness or resignation we fall into when life feels too heavy to push against. It is always easier to remain lost, to stay still, to go with the grain and accept defeat. Many of us slip into that half-awake state,  sleepwalking through life while convincing ourselves it’s rest. This piece sits inside that idea: the hollow, or “hallow,” of inertia, a place where stillness becomes both comfort and trap. And in today’s world, where ease is constantly offered and often overindulged, that pull feels stronger than ever.