I painted this piece while I was pregnant. There was something quiet about it…playful and tender, like a secret I hadn’t spoken yet. The central figure is Dinah, Alice’s kitten from Alice in Wonderland. In the book, Dinah stays behind in the real world (calm, grounded, domestic) while Alice goes off into chaos and imagination. Here, I painted her with a daisy crown, smiling, almost mid-purr, her body replaced by a porcelain vase. Blue and white, ornamental, fragile. Something decorative, yes, but also symbolic. A container. A protector. A place to hold something precious, like a small, imagined world.
Around her, fragments of color and pattern: tile, china, flowers. A collage of references that felt both domestic and surreal.
It reminded me of the feeling of preparing for someone you haven’t met yet. A child. A daughter. A new reality forming quietly inside you.
I had always thought this painting would be for her.
Something of mine that would wait for her.
But when I was asked to donate a piece for a charity auction supporting mothers and children in Gaza, this one came to mind. It felt like the right gesture - intimate, meaningful. I offered it with care, and one condition: a minimum price.
That condition wasn’t respected.
The piece was sold for much less, without my knowledge.
It left me with a quiet ache. Not because I regret giving, but because the care I offered wasn’t matched.
Because something that held a story was treated like it didn’t.