Liminal Light: Between Shadows and Soul

di·lation of imagination

Liminal Light: Between Shadows and Soul

Darkness is not a color; it is the pure absence of light. It is not merely the opposite of light but exists in a liminal space where light ceases to reach and transformation begins. It is within this liminal space that the human face in my portraits becomes more than a representation of physical features; it becomes a symbol of the ongoing process of becoming. The boundary between light and darkness becomes a space of profound potential, where the mind is forced to stretch and expand, inviting imagination to fill the void.

In my series "di·lation of imagination," I delve into this exploration. Here, darkness and light do not merely compete; instead, they cooperate to reveal deeper truths. As I studied the interplay between light and shadow, inspired by the chiaroscuro technique, I discovered that the darkness around a highlighted eye draws the viewer in, encouraging them to see beyond the physical into the psychological or emotional state of the subject. The shadows become a liminal space of introspection, compelling the viewer to seek out what is hidden, to engage with the unseen, to navigate the boundary between what is and what could be.

As I progressed further into this series, I found myself introduced to the concept of shadow work—not just as an artistic technique, but as a psychological process of navigating these liminal spaces within ourselves. The faces in my paintings became more than just representations of individuals; they were reflections of internal worlds, both mine and the viewer's. The darkness I introduced into each portrait was not just a visual choice but a pathway to understanding the emotions and stories hidden within the shadows. Each face, emerging from the canvas, carried with it a depth that resonated with something deep within me, and perhaps within each person who views the work—a recognition of the liminal spaces within their own lives.

In the interplay between light and darkness, there exists a metaphor for the human condition. Just as light and shadow define physical space in a painting, they also symbolize the dualities within the human psyche—known and unknown, conscious and unconscious, revealed and concealed. In this sense, darkness in a portrait becomes more than just a visual absence; it represents the parts of ourselves that we do not fully understand, the emotions we struggle to articulate, and the experiences that shape us in ways we cannot always see.

It is within these liminal spaces that we find the true essence of a person—not in the static image of who they are, but in the dynamic process of who they are becoming. Are these faces dark, or do they simply hold the space where light has yet to reach, where transformation is still taking place? The answer, as with all things in art, lies in the eye—and the mind—of the beholder.

By introducing darkness into the portrait, I am not merely playing with contrast—I am inviting the viewer to engage with the subject’s hidden depths, to explore the layers of identity that lie beneath the surface. Darkness allows for a more nuanced portrayal of the human experience, one that acknowledges the complexity of our inner worlds. It is in these shadowed spaces that the most profound aspects of our character often reside, waiting to be discovered.

In this sense, the darkness is not something to be feared or avoided, but rather something to be embraced. It is a necessary counterpart to light, offering a space for reflection, introspection, and ultimately, growth. Just as a seed must first be planted in the dark soil before it can reach toward the light, so too must we sometimes delve into the darkness within ourselves to fully realize our potential.

This idea ties back to the concept of shadow work, where confronting and integrating the darker aspects of our psyche is essential for achieving wholeness. In the portraits, this process is visually represented by the delicate balance of light and shadow. The eye that emerges from the darkness symbolizes awareness, the awakening of insight that comes from looking within. It suggests that by facing the darkness, we can illuminate the hidden parts of our being, bringing them into harmony with the light.

"Change the way you see things and the things you see will change." -Wayne Dyer

Thus, these portraits do more than depict faces; they tell stories of inner journeys, of struggles and triumphs that shape who we are.

The darkness is not a void, but a fertile ground for imagination and transformation. It challenges us to look beyond appearances, to see the soul beneath the surface, and to recognize that it is often in the shadows that we find the true essence of a person.

In this light, or rather, in this darkness, the portraits become a mirror—reflecting not just the faces of the subjects, but also the inner landscapes of those who view them. What we see in these shadows may reveal as much about ourselves as it does about the person depicted. This is the profound power of art: to connect, to reveal, and to transform both the creator and the observer.