I own my intensity (part of a series) original acrylic and UV paint on 50 x 68 cm canvas by Artist Chris Shopland
This piece turned out far more intense than I initially imagined and has become part of a series exploring the process of owning and working through complex, intense emotions—whether through therapy, journaling, or whatever approach works for you. The painting captures raw vulnerability, and at times, I’ve wondered if it’s too intense to share with the world. Yet, there’s a quiet expression on the face that holds a deep resonance.
This is art that isn’t traditionally beautiful but is undeniably powerful—evoking emotions and stirring something within. Perhaps it reminds you of who you aspire to be, moments when you’ve experienced strong emotions, or even serves as an unconventional way to surprise guests as they turn a corner. I’m not here to judge.
For now, it rests behind some wooden chests near Ralph’s (my dog’s) bed. Strangely enough, its presence there has been comforting—like it’s quietly watching over and protecting us in its own way.
50 × 68cm on canvas (I use both cm and inches depending which is the easiest to read, this was 50 × 68 exactly)
This piece turned out far more intense than I initially imagined and has become part of a series exploring the process of owning and working through complex, intense emotions—whether through therapy, journaling, or whatever approach works for you. The painting captures raw vulnerability, and at times, I’ve wondered if it’s too intense to share with the world. Yet, there’s a quiet expression on the face that holds a deep resonance.
This is art that isn’t traditionally beautiful but is undeniably powerful—evoking emotions and stirring something within. Perhaps it reminds you of who you aspire to be, moments when you’ve experienced strong emotions, or even serves as an unconventional way to surprise guests as they turn a corner. I’m not here to judge.
For now, it rests behind some wooden chests near Ralph’s (my dog’s) bed. Strangely enough, its presence there has been comforting—like it’s quietly watching over and protecting us in its own way.
50 × 68cm on canvas (I use both cm and inches depending which is the easiest to read, this was 50 × 68 exactly)
This piece turned out far more intense than I initially imagined and has become part of a series exploring the process of owning and working through complex, intense emotions—whether through therapy, journaling, or whatever approach works for you. The painting captures raw vulnerability, and at times, I’ve wondered if it’s too intense to share with the world. Yet, there’s a quiet expression on the face that holds a deep resonance.
This is art that isn’t traditionally beautiful but is undeniably powerful—evoking emotions and stirring something within. Perhaps it reminds you of who you aspire to be, moments when you’ve experienced strong emotions, or even serves as an unconventional way to surprise guests as they turn a corner. I’m not here to judge.
For now, it rests behind some wooden chests near Ralph’s (my dog’s) bed. Strangely enough, its presence there has been comforting—like it’s quietly watching over and protecting us in its own way.
50 × 68cm on canvas (I use both cm and inches depending which is the easiest to read, this was 50 × 68 exactly)
