Rage. Roar. Rise.

You know Live. Laugh. Love.

You have seen it on kitchen walls and coffee mugs and cushions and cards. Handed to women as the full extent of what they are supposed to feel and want and be. Content. Quiet. Decorative. Grateful.

I took that format and I put something else inside it.

This painting started as one thing and became something else entirely, the way most honest things do. Layer by layer, day by day, it morphed and changed and found its own shape. And what emerged was not what I planned but exactly what I needed to make.

Underneath everything you see, there is an old painting I covered over. Someone else's tradition, someone else's version of what things should look like, painted out and replaced. That felt right. Because that is what needs to happen. Not making do with what we were handed. Not adapting to fit inside it. Dismantling it. Painting it out. Replacing it with something that actually tells the truth. Taking what was traditional and replacing it with something that refuses to keep things exactly as they are. That is what the matriarchy does. That is what we do.

The background took days to build. Layer after layer of acrylic paint applied with palette knives and brushes and a toothbrush and objects found around the house. Milk bottles. Jam jars. A bracelet pressed into wet colour. Chaos underneath everything. Because that is what it feels like to be a woman paying attention right now. Everything happening at once. None of it resolved. All of it present.

Then over all of that, three words.

RAGE. ROAR. RISE.

Pink because they gave us pink and told us to stay small inside it. Bold blue behind it because contrast is everything. The black outlines because sometimes you need to draw a line around a thing to make people actually see it.

The two gold hearts either side of ROAR are dripping. The sweetness is melting. Because what has always lived underneath all that decorative softness, all that Live Laugh Love, all that smile-and-be-grateful, is the roar. It was always there. We were just taught to swallow it. To apologise for it. To shrink it back down before anyone noticed.

Prints of this piece will be available in the shop very soon. Follow @withshakinghands on Instagram and Facebook to be the first to know when we launch.

Rage first. Then roar. Then rise.

With Shaking Hands