Image 1 of 3
Image 2 of 3
Image 3 of 3
Me, Not You
“Me not You - on the intimacy of presence and erasure
I did not want to explain myself when I made this painting. I wanted to remain inside the feeling that preceded explanation, the moment before language begins arranging itself around the other person.
There is a particular intimacy in choosing oneself that felt , at first, almost unbearable to me.It carries the heavy charge of separation. Not dramatic separation, not departure, but the quieter act of staying aligned with one’s own outline. I know very well how easily this alignment slips when desire enters the room.
I have mistaken closeness for generosity. I have believed that to love meant to soften, to blur, to let myself be read before I was finished forming the sentence. What I felt, instead, was a gradual thinning, as if my voice were becoming a surface others could write on.
This painting emerged from that thinning.
There was a moment, while working, when I became aware of how much effort I usually expend trying to be interpretable. How often I anticipate misunderstanding and rush to correct it before it arrives. The body learns this early: to smooth, to clarify, to preempt. I recognized that reflex in myself as a kind of loyalty, not to truth nor to myself, but to continuity. To keeping things going at any cost.
The lips appears because it is where I first notice myself disappearing. It is where yes arrives too early. Where explanation rushes in to prevent loss. Where I learned to trade precision for harmony. There is a violence in over-explanation that masquerades as care. I have felt it most clearly here, the way the mouth learns to fill silence, to soothe, to offer reasons when what is needed is presence. The mouth becomes industrious.
Helpful.
It forgets how to rest.
I was not thinking about speech so much as restraint, the unfamiliar weight of holding something back and discovering it did not rot inside me. Holding back did not produce the panic I expected. It brings physical discomfort, pain, but it also produced a strange steadiness, almost architectural. As if an inner structure had been allowed to bear weight for the first time. I realized then how often I confuse openness with collapse. How rarely I allow myself the dignity of containment. There is to me a very unfamiliar risk in containment. I often confused with coldness. But what I felt while painting was not withdrawal. It was density. A gathering of self that had nothing to do with refusal and everything to do with authorship.
The title me not you came reluctantly. I worried about its hardness. But the more I resisted it, the more accurate it became. It is not a declaration against the other. It is a declaration before the other. A sentence that must exist in order for anything shared to remain recognizably mine.
I was thinking about how often women are taught to experience intimacy as erosion. How much praise is attached to availability. How rarely we are invited to consider that desire might survive, even deepen, when it encounters a boundary it cannot pass through.
What surprised me was the grief that accompanied this realization. It was not grief for a person, but for a pattern, for the closeness that had once felt like proof. I mourned the ease of being absorbed. The relief of letting someone else decide where I ended.
To choose oneself is not clean. It means mourning the versions of closeness that depended on self-erasure. It means accepting that some connections only exist as long as you are willing to disappear inside them. Some doors close not because you shut them, but because you stop holding them open with your body.
Still, something else opens. A different register of intimacy becomes possible, one that does not rely on urgency or sacrifice. One that can tolerate distance without converting it into abandonment. I am only beginning to trust this.
This painting holds that grief without resolving it. It does not ask to be met halfway. It does not ask to be understood. It simply insists on presence, not the presence of the other, but my own.
If there is intimacy here, it is not the intimacy of merging. It is the intimacy of remaining.
Me.
Not you.” - Antonia xx
Add a wonderful accent to your living space with this poster that is sure to brighten any environment.
Printed on 200g natural art paper with a matte, uncoated finish and lightly textured surface, that ensures a rich and vibrant display of colors.
Sustainability is important to us, that is why our prints are made to order and not printed until the order is received. All orders are printed and shipped within 3 business days of receiving the order.
Fits standard sized frames. The frame is not included.
If your order has been damaged or lost within 1 month of shipment you are eligible for a complimentary reprint.
All sales are final and cannot be cancelled.
“Me not You - on the intimacy of presence and erasure
I did not want to explain myself when I made this painting. I wanted to remain inside the feeling that preceded explanation, the moment before language begins arranging itself around the other person.
There is a particular intimacy in choosing oneself that felt , at first, almost unbearable to me.It carries the heavy charge of separation. Not dramatic separation, not departure, but the quieter act of staying aligned with one’s own outline. I know very well how easily this alignment slips when desire enters the room.
I have mistaken closeness for generosity. I have believed that to love meant to soften, to blur, to let myself be read before I was finished forming the sentence. What I felt, instead, was a gradual thinning, as if my voice were becoming a surface others could write on.
This painting emerged from that thinning.
There was a moment, while working, when I became aware of how much effort I usually expend trying to be interpretable. How often I anticipate misunderstanding and rush to correct it before it arrives. The body learns this early: to smooth, to clarify, to preempt. I recognized that reflex in myself as a kind of loyalty, not to truth nor to myself, but to continuity. To keeping things going at any cost.
The lips appears because it is where I first notice myself disappearing. It is where yes arrives too early. Where explanation rushes in to prevent loss. Where I learned to trade precision for harmony. There is a violence in over-explanation that masquerades as care. I have felt it most clearly here, the way the mouth learns to fill silence, to soothe, to offer reasons when what is needed is presence. The mouth becomes industrious.
Helpful.
It forgets how to rest.
I was not thinking about speech so much as restraint, the unfamiliar weight of holding something back and discovering it did not rot inside me. Holding back did not produce the panic I expected. It brings physical discomfort, pain, but it also produced a strange steadiness, almost architectural. As if an inner structure had been allowed to bear weight for the first time. I realized then how often I confuse openness with collapse. How rarely I allow myself the dignity of containment. There is to me a very unfamiliar risk in containment. I often confused with coldness. But what I felt while painting was not withdrawal. It was density. A gathering of self that had nothing to do with refusal and everything to do with authorship.
The title me not you came reluctantly. I worried about its hardness. But the more I resisted it, the more accurate it became. It is not a declaration against the other. It is a declaration before the other. A sentence that must exist in order for anything shared to remain recognizably mine.
I was thinking about how often women are taught to experience intimacy as erosion. How much praise is attached to availability. How rarely we are invited to consider that desire might survive, even deepen, when it encounters a boundary it cannot pass through.
What surprised me was the grief that accompanied this realization. It was not grief for a person, but for a pattern, for the closeness that had once felt like proof. I mourned the ease of being absorbed. The relief of letting someone else decide where I ended.
To choose oneself is not clean. It means mourning the versions of closeness that depended on self-erasure. It means accepting that some connections only exist as long as you are willing to disappear inside them. Some doors close not because you shut them, but because you stop holding them open with your body.
Still, something else opens. A different register of intimacy becomes possible, one that does not rely on urgency or sacrifice. One that can tolerate distance without converting it into abandonment. I am only beginning to trust this.
This painting holds that grief without resolving it. It does not ask to be met halfway. It does not ask to be understood. It simply insists on presence, not the presence of the other, but my own.
If there is intimacy here, it is not the intimacy of merging. It is the intimacy of remaining.
Me.
Not you.” - Antonia xx
Add a wonderful accent to your living space with this poster that is sure to brighten any environment.
Printed on 200g natural art paper with a matte, uncoated finish and lightly textured surface, that ensures a rich and vibrant display of colors.
Sustainability is important to us, that is why our prints are made to order and not printed until the order is received. All orders are printed and shipped within 3 business days of receiving the order.
Fits standard sized frames. The frame is not included.
If your order has been damaged or lost within 1 month of shipment you are eligible for a complimentary reprint.
All sales are final and cannot be cancelled.