This self-portrait, titled “Who Cares”, captures a raw and defiant exploration of identity through material excess and painterly improvisation. The figure, built from thick, gestural layers of leftover paint, appears both emerging and dissolving — a patchwork of colours and textures that resist neat containment. The act of using up old paint becomes a metaphor for reassembling the self from discarded fragments — what’s left behind, what’s wasted, what still has value.
The smeared pinks, bruised blues and flashes of neon red pulse against the rough wooden ground, suggesting a tension between vulnerability and bravado, beauty and exhaustion. The layered impasto feels almost sculptural, as if the artist’s identity has been excavated through accumulation and abrasion rather than representation.
“Who Cares” reads as both a question and a statement — a shrug against the expectations of how a portrait (or a person) should appear. It reclaims indifference as a form of self-assertion: a refusal to polish, perfect, or conceal. What remains is a figure built from remnants — unapologetically messy, emotionally charged, and defiantly human.
