‘Four ways to fill a grid’ Print

‘Four ways to fill a grid’ is direct and relatable. Four perfect grids sit in the corners, each made of identical black squares. They represent expectation, routine, the way the world often asks us to fit into neat boxes. But laid over each grid is a single, irregular shape — blue, red, orange, yellow — none of them matching the squares, none of them the same as each other. That tension shows what it feels like to be neurodivergent inside standard systems. The structure is still there, still useful, but the way each person moves through it is messy, colorful, and uniquely shaped. The grids don’t contain the forms; the forms reframe the grids.

The colors are saturated and unapologetic. They don’t blend in or try to “fix” themselves to fit the squares underneath. Instead they sit on top, bright and tactile, demanding their own space. That mirrors sensory intensity and self-advocacy — the choice to be visible even when it doesn’t match the pattern. Each blob processes the same grid differently: one covers it, one spills off the edge, one centers it. Same system, four different experiences. That’s the core of neurodiversity: difference, not deficit.