This piece explores how pain is lived rather than measured. Drawing from infant loss, endometriosis, and long-term mental health impacts, it examines how grief and physical illness co-exist in the same body. Pain is not linear, isolated, or resolved by time or treatment. Instead, it accumulates, shifts, and resurfaces-often invisibly. This submssion challenges the separation between emotional and physical pain, showing how reproductive loss and chronic disease create persistent, ebmodied experience. It speaks to the daily work of functioning, caregiving, surviving while carrying pain that has no clear endpoint or cure.

Many live with pain--some, all of their lives. We may never know the extent of their suffering--but time tells all. The stories of millions of women around the world are told in their eyes--but even they can't hide the wrinkles of time---the tapestry of their life.

This is a watercolour illustrating a person impacted by pain. It depicts the affected person (dark blue footprints) walking in the snow, deep into the forest. The dark blue of the woods represents the fear and loneliness sometimes felt by the person living with pain. The vibrant red and orange represent the burning sensation often associated with pain. The sun is the wonderful aftermath when the pain dissipates. You will notice that the person ends up walking into the woods alone, however there are other foot (& paw) prints that represent the support that accompany the affected person for parts of the journey. The painting illustrates that the journey through pain is a myriad of things…it is dark, shared, lonely, and physically taxing. But most importantly, the painting shows a glimmer of hope as there is always a way through the darkness.

This piece presents a playful yet slightly dark fairytale scene inspired by old folklore. Small elven creatures perform dental work using antique carpenter’s tools . While the scene carries humor, it also hints at discomfort. The exaggerated setting reflects how our understanding of anguish is shaped by personal history and memory. Physical sensation is only part of the story; emotion, anticipation, and past experience all deepen it. By pairing whimsy with unease, the work suggests that suffering is rarely simple. Even in a fantastical world, tending to damage reveals how layered and complicated our reactions can be.

You're invited to look closely- not just at the face, but through it, to experience what it's like to live with chronic pain. It speaks to the invisible nature of pain and how much of it is felt internally, even when the outside world can't see it.
It represents how people can feel different types of pain and feel them differently. But, no matter what type of pain they feel, eyes reflect what they are going through. Pain is there in someone's eyes even when there are no other physical signs.

While I’ve struggled with persistent physical pain and a lifelong illness that I was born and still struggle with, my worst pain was from within. We often forget the severity psychological pain, and it’s consequences. I personally used to struggle with self harm. The pain of the cuts were constant but what was even more painful was the addiction and guilt. As part of my recovery, I made this painting that portrays the ruthless cycle, how lonely and painful self harm felt to me. I hope those with similar struggles will be comforted when seeing my artwork, by realizing their not alone in their struggles.

This is my abstract depiction of mt suffering experience, which in itself is an abstract experience.
The piece is immersed in blackness, but there are segments of colour and elements of starlight seeping through; it is these segments of my life which I must focus on in order to get any relief, distraction, and any sense of purpose in a life that otherwise could drown a person in negativity.

I try to escape the pain through sleep. Sometimes I feel as though I am underwater..………sleep illudes me

My brother endured pain for over a year; the bones in his foot breaking down due to diabetes and a severe infection. Following amputation, he is now pain-free. Watching him wheel into Rehab, my heart went heavy; it’s just the two of us now. But somehow, I could feel our mom’s love and warmth pushing us forward through an open door, towards the unknown of what lies ahead for his recovery and future. The number XXIX symbolizes our family past and present and brings us true strength and comfort. Pain has four letters, but so does love.

This self-portrait highlights my personal battles with mental illness and the paralyzing anxiety I have fought within myself for longer than I can remember. It was created around a pivotal moment in my healing and represents how anxiety blinds us to reality.

Men's mental health is an example of silent pain and suffering often resulting in suicide. Its a hidden pain most men suffer from and do not know there is help.

I feel as though I am in a state of limbo. Of stuckness. The pain is all consuming. It is layered. It creeps. I feel distorted. Numb. Staying here, being consumed by the pain, is not an option. But the path forward is terrifying. It is an abyss of confusion, helplessness, anger, and fear. So much fear. I am afraid to move forward. I take one last look at where I have come from. All the effort and disappointment that has led me here. I don’t want to do this alone. It’s time to get unstuck.

This piece explores chronic pain as a personal divide between the body and self. The girl’s unraveling reflects how ongoing pain can quietly reshape a person from the inside, isolating them in ways others may never see. Within that breaking is also a sense of movement and adaptation, mirroring the daily effort to live alongside discomfort. I wanted this work to speak to the human act of learning to carry pain, and to the quiet courage of those who embrace it, and endure it in silence.

I created this ceramic vessel after my twentieth surgery. When nerve weakness in my hand caused it to slip and break, I was devastated. What once symbolized perseverance echoed fragility. Repaired with gold, the vessel blooms into something new. Complementary paint colours mixed with sand reflect the discomfort and tolerance of chronic pain. Knotted strands of yarn show how opposite emotions coexist throughout the pain journey: we meet limits and exceed them while building resilience; we feel alone and find belonging by sharing stories; we grieve our former life and move forward courageously. How do I feel pain? It’s complicated.

The brain is a fascinating thing. Unwanted sensations can be detached from our body as we all go through this phase of dissociation. It can be both a blessing and a curse.

Carrying Pain, What Remains reflects on witnessing my aunt’s life change profoundly through chronic pain. Through poetry and image, the work traces how pain alters time, roles, memory, and the body, not only for the person in pain, but also for those who love them. Set within both clinical and domestic spaces, it captures the quiet endurance, losses, and adaptations that follow, while honoring what persists beyond suffering: care, identity, and presence. The piece challenges pain as a singular symptom, presenting it instead as a lived, relational experience that reshapes life.

This drawing presents pain as a journey rather than a single moment. Pain begins at the roots, symbolizing deep sources of suffering. Along this path, medications within the roots reflect treatment at different stages, while the nearby surgical instrument represents deeper intervention when needed. Water falling from above symbolizes mercy and relief during hardship. Despite ongoing pain, the flower continues to grow, drawing strength from the struggle itself. In the end, it reaches the light and blooms, showing that through endurance, care, and mercy, pain can give rise to strength and growth.

The piece explores how pain is felt and experienced, using sun imagery to convey the relentless, burning quality of post-amputation pain—described as “never absent except during sleep.” This embodied, inescapable sensation is set against water imagery, which represents opioid analgesia (visualized using OxyContin tablets). Here, relief is felt as submersion or cooling: pain may recede, but at risk of drifting toward deeper states of numbness, where the boundary between rest, unconsciousness, and permanent sleep becomes dangerously thin.

This image reflects pain as an internal, shifting experience—felt deeply, yet difficult to articulate. The blurred motion suggests the way pain disrupts clarity, distorts time, and unsettles one’s sense of self. The hand moving across the face evokes both protection and overwhelm, a gesture of coping when words fall short. Pain here is not fixed or visible in a single moment; it trembles, lingers, and resurfaces unpredictably. The obscured features speak to isolation and misrecognition, how pain is often unseen or misunderstood by others. Together, the softness and tension embody the vulnerability, resilience, and quiet endurance that define how we feel pain.

How We Feel Pain is through the brain!
In chronic pain, pain signals often continue long after a pain-triggering event has ended; with malfunctions in receiving, interpreting, or responding to pain signals.
The chronic pain brain is like a home's electrical panel in 'Circuit Overload' - flickering lights, frequently tripped circuit breakers, overheating outlets, burning smells, buzzing sounds, and more.
Imagine the brain as an electrical panel overwhelmed by pain; neurotransmitters' signals flicker, dim, overheat, or trip like circuit breakers, leaving the person feeling that different functions of their brain have been disconnected like puzzle pieces pulled apart.