Learned Ignorance, oil on canvas, 20"x20", 2026
A draped figure sits in quiet contemplation, surrounded by small gilded mirrors scattered across a dim wall — each one catching only a fragment of light, a fragment of truth.
This piece is about the limits of what we can actually see. The mirrors here don't lie, but they can't tell the whole story either; their frames are too small, their reflections too narrow. Just like us. We move through life certain of what we perceive, forgetting that our own sight has edges we can't see past.
The figure isn't looking at anything specific: it's looking inward, caught in that pause between certainty and doubt. That's the space I wanted to paint.
This idea traces back to Socrates — considered the wisest man in Athens precisely because he was the only one who admitted he knew nothing. Not arrogance, but honesty. The mirrors in this painting carry that same humility: they reflect only what little they can hold, and so do we.
Docta ignorantia — learned ignorance. Not the absence of knowledge, but the wisdom to recognize its limits. Maybe truth was never meant to fit inside a single frame.
📍 New work, fresh off the easel.
Learned Ignorance, oil on canvas, 20"x20", 2026
A draped figure sits in quiet contemplation, surrounded by small gilded mirrors scattered across a dim wall — each one catching only a fragment of light, a fragment of truth.
This piece is about the limits of what we can actually see. The mirrors here don't lie, but they can't tell the whole story either; their frames are too small, their reflections too narrow. Just like us. We move through life certain of what we perceive, forgetting that our own sight has edges we can't see past.
The figure isn't looking at anything specific: it's looking inward, caught in that pause between certainty and doubt. That's the space I wanted to paint.
This idea traces back to Socrates — considered the wisest man in Athens precisely because he was the only one who admitted he knew nothing. Not arrogance, but honesty. The mirrors in this painting carry that same humility: they reflect only what little they can hold, and so do we.
Docta ignorantia — learned ignorance. Not the absence of knowledge, but the wisdom to recognize its limits. Maybe truth was never meant to fit inside a single frame.
📍 New work, fresh off the easel.