‘Broken Still Here’ Print

‘Broken Still Here’ breaks the careful regulation from before. A black and grey canvas split vertically, one side matte black and one side dark teal that has been designed using cracked acrylic paint and shattered pieces of frosted glass arranged across it, like a windshield that took a hit. They do not quite fit back together. At the bottom centre is a tiny pile of miniature metal tools; wrenches, screwdrivers, axes and a hammer. The glass is sharp and cold. The tools are delicate and precise. It feels like an accident and an autopsy at the same time.

Through a neurodivergent’s eyes, this is burnout with receipts. The glass is the mask. You held it together for as long as you could, then it exploded. The cracks were always there, you just painted over them with black. Now the shards are laid out like evidence. The tools are what you were told to use on yourself. Fix it. Adjust it. Tighten it down. Make yourself fit. You collected every coping strategy, every hack, every piece of neurotypical advice, and dumped them in a pile. They are real tools, but they were never the right size for this kind of break. This piece is the moment you stop trying to repair the mask and start studying the wreckage instead. The shatter is the truth. The tools are everything that did not work. And the space between the glass is where you finally get some air.