Fragmented

Often when we think of beauty, we will think of it in terms of physical attributes; quantifiable or measurable features that are immediately recognizable - things such as proportions, size and color.  But often times when my eye draws the curves of a figures form - when I follow arms as they wrap around ones chest or feel the tension in ones stomach as the legs are drawn upward in the fetal position – I am compelled by the beauty that comes not from the external, but the haunting beauty of loss that is part of life’s rhythm.  The beauty is in the rawness of the emotion.