Uncomfortable Lines

Abstract Calligraphy Wall Art for Modern Homes

Uncomfortable Lines

What do you do when you need to speak, but know they won’t understand?

There was a time I believed I could stay quiet. That my art could live in its own world—free from the weight of politics, conflict, or disagreement. I used to think discomfort had no place in calligraphy. That lines were meant to soothe.

But the world kept shifting.
News that broke my heart. Conversations that exposed how small some people choose to think. Words like “freedom” and “privilege” thrown around without care—without understanding. I felt like my silence was becoming a form of agreement. And I couldn’t live with that.

That’s when Uncomfortable Lines began.
Not as a planned collection, but as an emotional need. These pieces aren’t just ink and paper—they’re moments I couldn’t explain in conversation. They hold my questions, my grief, my defiance. Sometimes all in the same stroke.

Now, I understand that discomfort can be powerful. It can start conversations that pretty lines alone can’t.
So this collection exists for those who are also sitting in the tension. Who feel too much. Who see what others won’t.
These are not answers. They’re invitations—to look again, to feel deeper, and maybe, to disagree.
Abstract Wall Art 19x25" — Flame of frustration

Abstract Wall Art 19x25"

Flame of frustration

I came across this phrase on a friend’s shorts, and instantly, it felt like it was written for me. It captured exactly what I was holding inside—unspoken frustration, raw emotion, the kind of anger that refuses to be smoothed over.

When I wrote this line, I wasn’t trying to be polite. I wasn’t trying to soften my edges.I was angry—at the world, at those who refuse to look beyond their own corner, at the cramped horizons that leave no room for empathy or wonder. And instead of burying that feeling, I gave it a voice.

Baba Yaga showed up.
That wild, terrifying, untamed figure from folklore—the one who refuses to be nice, who refuses to bend. For a moment, I understood her. The impulse to retreat into the woods, to guard your space, to toss away the ones who won’t respect it.

This piece is about anger, yes. But more than that—it’s about permission. The permission to feel all of it: rage, weariness, grief. Emotions that are often labeled “ugly” or “wrong.” I believe they have their own truth. And when we let them surface, they don’t destroy us—they clarify us.

So this artwork is not just a joke in calligraphy. It’s a reminder that anger has a place. That even in discomfort, there is honesty. And that sometimes, the only way forward is through the fire.
Abstract Wall Art 18x24" — The line of freedom

Abstract Wall Art 18x24"

The line of freedom

Everyone told me the average first labor lasts 12–18 hours. I believed them. I pictured myself in that range, somewhere in the middle—safe, “normal,” just like the statistics promised.

But then my labor stretched to 36 hours. I hadn’t done anything differently, but suddenly I was outside the bounds of “average.” In that moment, I realized how fragile the idea of belonging is—how quickly you can cross an invisible line between “us” and “them,” without even moving.

Much later, when I talked with other moms and saw new research, I understood just how rare my experience was. What felt extreme wasn’t impossible, but it was uncommon. That invisible line was real—but only in how it shaped my perception.

This artwork captures that truth. It reminds us that the divisions we draw—average and rare, belonging and otherness—are often invisible until we cross them. And when we do, we see how much those lines exist in perception, not reality.

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