The Geometry Of Colors

The Geometry of Color

There are moments when I lose language, when what needs to be said can’t be spoken, only painted. This piece came from that hush—a sacred pause where emotion found its own rhythm through color and curve. The form is female, but not bound to identity. Her back turned, her body both suggestion and certainty, she is a presence that moves beyond flesh. In the swirling, translucent edges of her shape, I wasn’t trying to capture a particular person—I was tracing the emotional architecture of being seen from within. In her, there's no shame, no voyeurism, only the quiet clarity of a woman becoming her own element.

What I love about abstract realism is its refusal to commit to the binary of form or formlessness. It bends expectation like light through stained glass, letting mystery linger. This woman, for me, is a metaphor for inner sovereignty—the way we slowly return to ourselves after dispersing too much in the name of love, labor, or longing. Her body floats inside a halo of vibrancy, colors that don't compete but coexist, much like the emotions we carry without words. I didn’t want to paint her as a muse or a mirror. I wanted her to be a threshold. And maybe that’s the gift of art that speaks without explaining—it invites us to cross into our own remembering.

Threshold Woman by Ocean Eversley

There are shapes the tongue betrays—
what the body knows,
but the mouth cannot hold.
She rose from that silence,
curved like breath in water,
neither question nor answer.

Her back is a sermon—
not to be read, but received.
No face, no plea for recognition,
only the soft defiance
of a woman no longer translating herself
for someone else’s gaze.

She is not nude—
she is elemental.
The sweep of her hips,
the eclipse of her shoulder,
exist outside permission,
unconcerned with metaphor.

Color held her like a vow.
Ochre for the strength,
turquoise for the part that still believes.
She did not arrive in grief—
she arrived through it,
stitched with every shade of return.

Call her sovereign.
Call her the geometry of reclamation,
where the edge of longing
meets the line of becoming.
Where a woman steps back into herself
without apology or armor.

And if you listen—
not with ears, but with memory—
you’ll find her there,
in the hush before naming,
where art and soul
agree not to explain.

Prices are in USD $

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in
41in x 55in
45in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in
41in x 55in
45in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in
41in x 55in
45in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in
41in x 55in
45in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in
41in x 55in
45in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in
41in x 55in
45in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in
41in x 55in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
18in x 24in
23in x 30in
27in x 36in
32in x 42in
36in x 48in