Stumbling into Infinity

This work emerged from a deep well of reflection on displacement, memory, and the eternal longing for belonging. I titled it Stumbling into Infinity to speak to that precarious, mysterious path toward wholeness — often navigated in the dark, and often alone.

The lone red bench sits beneath a luminous arc — a moon, a portal, or perhaps a future not yet realized. It offers a symbolic resting place for the weary soul — a safe haven imagined, not yet occupied. The surrounding terrain glows with fiery, textured flora, hinting at both destruction and renewal, chaos and rebirth. Threads of golden impasto mark the land like pathways, or remnants of something once sacred, still growing.

The square at the bottom left contains two translucent beings, their silhouettes etched in silver leaf like ghosts of memory — or messengers from another realm. These figures may be interpreted as ancestral, human, or of ET persuasion — their presence ambiguous, tender, and otherworldly. There is a sense that they are watching, remembering, and waiting for the invitation to return.

This painting was also inspired by my Transylvanian father, who was taken in the night and interned near Alice Springs as an “enemy alien” in the 1950s. Though forcibly displaced, he always held a quiet hope in the promise of the “lucky country.” That paradox — of trauma and trust, alienation and resilience — lives in this piece.

Homelessness, to me, is not only physical — it is also spiritual, emotional. We all long for a place where we are seen, known, and safe. But when identity is fractured, when past and present blur, we sometimes create invisible bars of our own, cages made from fear, shame, or unworthiness. And yet, within that same space, a dream still flickers — of peace, of love, of light.

This is a painting of threshold and transformation. Of what it means to survive and to hope — even as we stumble into infinity.