Mahogany Haze, Growing in the Quiet Corners

There’s a moment in the painting that came from real life a small, almost clumsy encounter. I stepped out and bumped my foot into the rubber plant that had been quietly occupying the corner of the room. It had been placed there months ago, almost as an afterthought, a soft sentinel guarding the emptiness. I hadn’t noticed how much it had grown.

Once a tiny ficus, it had tripled in size, its leaves now stretching and dancing toward the sunbeams that filtered through the window. They shimmered with a kind of quiet pride, as if to say, Look at me now. It was thriving not because of constant attention, but because it had been left in peace. Forgotten, perhaps. But not stagnant. A repotting was due sooner than expected.

That moment stayed with me. It became the seed for Mahogany Haze.

The Unseen Season of Growth

This painting is rooted in the idea of the isolation period of growth a phase many of us resist. It’s the part of the journey that feels the most uncomfortable: the silence after a big change, the stillness that follows a leap of faith. It’s the moment when the noise fades, the routines dissolve, and the familiar voices fall away. What’s left is just you and that can feel terrifying.

Like the ficus in the corner, we often grow the most when no one is watching. When we’re not being pruned or praised. When we’re simply left to be. In that solitude, we stretch toward our own light. We expand beyond the containers we once fit into. We begin to glow.

The Loneliness of New Paths

Choosing a new direction especially one that hasn’t been walked before can feel like stepping into a fog. There’s no map, no crowd to follow, no familiar rhythm to lean on. It can feel like loss. Like isolation. And sometimes, that loneliness is so sharp it tempts us to turn back, to return to the comfort of the known.

But Mahogany Haze is a reminder that the discomfort of solitude is not a void it’s a chrysalis. It’s the space where we shed what no longer fits and make room for what’s next. It’s where we learn to trust our own instincts, our own timing, our own light.

Seasons of Solace

Some seasons call for connection and community for shared meals, open laughter, and the warmth of being seen. But others ask us to go inward. To sit in the quiet. To listen to the parts of ourselves that only speak when everything else goes still.

Mahogany Haze lives in that stillness. It’s a visual meditation on the beauty of growing in the dark, of finding strength in solitude, of becoming more than we thought possible not in spite of being alone, but because of it.

Final Thoughts

As I painted this piece, I thought often of the ficus in the corner how it never asked for attention, yet bloomed anyway. How it claimed its space, reached for the light, and quietly transformed. It reminded me that we, too, are capable of that kind of growth.

If you’ve ever found yourself in a season of solitude whether chosen or unexpected hope this piece speaks to you. I hope it reminds you that even in the quietest corners, something beautiful is always unfolding.