I was in agony, when I made this, not the poetic kind. The real kind. The kind that makes you forget what day it is. The kind that doesn’t care if you’re sitting at your art desk or curled up on the sofa. It’s always there. But so is the need to create something.
Sometimes my nerve pain is so intense, I can’t create for days or weeks on end, it feels so hopeless. I surround myself with my art on my walls, as a constant reminder of what I am capable of…
This Frida Kahlo piece came out of that place. I didn’t make it because I felt inspired, I made it because I needed a distraction from the grief, the family stress, the ache of being cut off from people I love. I needed something to hold onto that wasn’t pain.
It’s a hanging ornament, bright and messy and full of life. Frida’s there in the middle, with butterfly wings and flowers in her hair. She’s surrounded by beads and rhinestones and strands that catch the light when the wind moves. I hung it in the garden, where the red leaves and green plants make it feel like she’s part of something living.
I didn’t make it perfectly. I didn’t make it pain-free. I made it because I had to.
If you live with chronic pain, you know how hard it is to focus. Words blur. Instructions feel too long. Even joy can feel like too much effort. But art doesn’t ask for perfection. It just asks for presence. Even five minutes at a time.
This piece is proof that we can still create—even when everything in our body says “give up.” It’s not easy. It’s not tidy. But it’s ours.
So if you’re reading this and you’re hurting, I see you. You’re not alone. And if you’ve got a scrap of paper, a handful of beads, or even just a pencil and a napkin—make something. Not because it fixes the pain. But because it gives you a moment outside of it.
Frida lived through pain too. She turned it into colour. I added wings!!!!
So can we.
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