On Fake People

Hook

The sun dips low, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. A man and his dog pass by, the leash a silent cord between them. The dog's tail wags gently, a soft metronome to their steps. My thoughts drift to the canvas in a small collection, a work I've returned to when my mind is restless.

The work

The painting sits quietly on the wall, its colours muted like an old photograph. The blues and greens are faded, almost washed out. It feels familiar. There is a sense of space in it, more empty than filled. The shapes are indistinct, almost as if they were painted by hand. They are not solid but fluid. The brushstrokes are confident yet playful, the paint applied thickly in some areas and thinly in others. It is Acrylic on Canvas, a medium I am still learning to master.

The space is intimate. The figures blur into the background, losing their form at the edges. There is a strange tension between the deliberate lines and the random splashes of paint. They seem to hold each other in place, preventing chaos from taking over. In the center there is a shape that could be a person or an object. It's hard to tell what it really is. The title, Fake People, seems appropriate.

The thought

This tension in the painting mirrors something I've felt within myself. At times, I see people as flat characters in a play. It's not that they lack depth; rather, my perception is clouded. This feeling creeps in when I am anxious or withdrawn. It's as if I am observing life through a pane of frosted glass. I can make out shapes but not the details.

I remember the first time I felt this way. My heart was racing and I struggled to breathe. I thought I was having a panic attack. Instead, my body was reacting to an emotional disconnect. I was seeing myself as a character in someone else's story. I wasn't sure who the real person was anymore. It took me years to understand that this feeling is part of human experience and not a flaw.

Since then, I have come to realize the title Fake People refers more to my perception than the reality. This painting is about a moment when I felt disconnected from myself. The shapes blur because I cannot see clearly during these times, but I am still here. When I see people as fake, it is me who is out of focus, not them.

Closing invitation

If you would like to see this painting in person, it lives on the Anfray x MAR site. It is one of a small number of works in my current collection and I am glad for it to be there.