The Scream Paint

A head rises out of darkness. Its eyes and open mouth are ringed with sudden flashes of green, like the last light catching on something before it disappears. Two red hands press against the sides of the face, holding it in place.

But holding it against what? Perhaps against a lunge forward, an urge to step in and stop something. Or perhaps against a step back, away from something too frightening to face. The figure stands still and screams, and the scream makes no sound.

There are so many reasons to cry out today, and so many ways of saying no to what is happening around us. This monotype is one of my attempts to give that refusal a shape. It’s a scream turned into an image, held quietly on paper.

The layers of hand-printed ink give the surface its depth: scratched textures, vertical traces like rain or static, a darkness that is never flat. Up close the print keeps showing you more. The green glows, the red hands flicker, and you begin to wonder whether the figure is shouting outwards or listening inwards.

Because this is a monotype, it can never be repeated. It is the only one.

Jolanta