The Seam

This is how a neurodivergent day feels to me — tall, vertical columns of information that should line up but keep slipping. The deep blue, the hot pink, the pale blue, the stone grey — each one is a different task, a different sense, a different demand, all dragged down in one long stroke. Where they cross in the middle that thick, built-up seam is the masking line. That's where I try to make it all look neat and level. You can see the paint is thicker there, stressed, over-worked. Above the line it’s dry and scratchy, below it’s wet and heavy. Same stroke, two different weights.

My brain doesn't do soft blending, it does hard interrupts. I love that you can see the canvas showing through the thin parts and then the sudden creamy block of cream paint dropped on top, unblended. It's sensory — high contrast, very touchable, that drag of the big brush. The pink column is the loudest, it bleeds the furthest, it won't stay contained. For me that is hyperfocus — one colour that takes over the whole painting even though it started as just one stripe.