This series began as an act of witnessing. But as I painted, it became something more—something healing, something holy.

The ballerinas you’re about to see are young Palestinian girls—moving softly, almost weightlessly, through a studio untouched by the noise of the world outside. I painted them during a time when sorrow felt endless. And yet, they moved with grace, unaware of the hope they carried.

Technically, I chose to work with a palette of warm yellows, soft earth tones, and light—because they shine. Not metaphorically. Literally. I layered these tones to honor the sunlit resilience in their skin, most importantly their joy.

Black is beautiful. And in these moments, untouched and unbothered, that beauty radiates.

That wasn’t the intention when I began. It became clear only later, when I shared the work with my therapist and realized: I wanted children—especially black and brown children—to see themselves reflected here. Not as symbols. Not as stories. But as light.

What you’re about to see is tenderness, preserved. May it move you, as it moved me.

In a world unraveling, these young dancers held grace like it was oxygen. I painted them during a time of deep sorrow, and through them, I found something soft, strong, and unshaken.

Their skin, their joy, their movement—this is what I wanted to honor.

This series is still unfolding. But the light is already here.