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Painting

Showing 17–19 of 19 resultsSorted by latest

  • Sold
    Moon, an oil on linen painting by Weseeclearly

    Moon

     1.870,00 €
    OriginalPainting
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  • Sold
    a portrait of Sufjan Stevens by Weseeclearly

    Sufjan

     1.870,00 €
    OriginalPainting
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  • Sold
    Rosa

    Rosa

     1.870,00 €
    OriginalPainting
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Weseeclearly

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    Weseeclearly

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    ░▒▓█►─═ Calming Nervous Systems ═─◄█▓▒░
    The Square Flew Over the Circle, and the Circle Be The Square Flew Over the Circle, and the Circle Became the Sun 94 x 94 cm oil on linen; wood, washi paper 2026 I felt inspired to do something more with this one: to enact an eclipse (frame with paper membrane, so that it glows when lit), as well as depict an eclipse (kite over sun) From a memory of flying my kite, and catching the sun by surprise... Incongruous geometries—circle and square—meeting in a flash of red light
    When the Moon Blocked the Light, It Returned to Me When the Moon Blocked the Light, It Returned to Me My Sight, and I Beheld the Arcs and Angles Holding up Our Sky 75 x 54 cm Oil on linen 2026 💫📐🌙🌈✨
    “We Built the World According to Our Rules, and Th “We Built the World According to Our Rules, and Then the Wind Blew” embroidery on silk 20 x 20 cm 2026 A little embroidered window into my inner world, where shapes, spaces, and words precipitate out of being an I on this complex earth 🌍🚹/👁️🌌 🌬️🟪…🌸 🌬️⭐️…🌻 🌬️🔴…🌺 🌬️❤️…🌷 (words & visuals are my own. I sketched, digitized, and embroidered in my studio in Berlin)
    At the end of the carousel you’ll see the bird, wh At the end of the carousel you’ll see the bird, who gave form to the dove, who taunted the kite, who woke up the sun, by blocking his light. Thank you to you-know-who-you-are, who released it from a pile of worm-eaten pages into flight again. “It Wasn’t Night but for the Shadow of a Kite” oil on linen 2026 Why does one thing (one sight, one sound, one touch) stay with us so much, while everything else falls away? What is the memory that I lost/ the myth that wants to be remembered/ which compels me to spend weeks teasing it out from latent darkness into structured sight? What I do feels more like archeology than the addition of anything new: brushing loose earth (pigment, pixels, etc.) until contours delineate a space of import, intrigue, activity. The through-line to everything I create is a tracing out of cosmology, rather than a stylistic overlay. Art making in this way is not removed from the day to day, because the vastness of what we share still lies buried under the artifice of modern borders. I am so grateful that I’ve been given the time, space, and support to basically train this faculty of remembering. Just imagine what the jigsaw of our world will look like, when we all start puzzling it back together.
    You are looking through my eyes at a letter from t You are looking through my eyes at a letter from the future 👀 It’s wordy and personal so I’ll spare you the bulk of it, but in summary it reads: 2026 was the year I stepped out from behind the mirror—which was behind a portico, which was behind a window—and met the world directly. I got a bit scorched by the sunlight as you’ll see in posts next week (I painted it metaphorically across two canvases) but it was a minor discomfort for a major grounding back into my own bones and skin. The letter also told me to post some random photos from 2025 as a first step towards relaxing the enigma, so that’s what the rest of the carousel comprises. (by the way, I highly recommend doing this for yourself too: instead of projecting resolutions outward into the abyss, stand on the other side 2026 and reflect back on what made your year incredible and surprising)
    From the Curve Came the World Have you ever dre From the Curve Came the World Have you ever dreamt that you’re drowning, and then you just... breathe? The deep ocean, in an instant, transforming from pressure zone to peace * Two years ago I started painting again, after what felt like a final exhalation of style, and a flowing-in of something even more foundational. That first inhale not only sustained me, but profoundly reorganized my way of being, my way of seeing, my sense of possibility, and my sense of purpose. Through paint I touch upon archetypes, and call them into re-appearance. It feels like a sort of archaeology, the resurfacing of primordial forms, the suspension of all their manifestations into fields of shimmering color, the insistence of a fully engaged, sensory and alive timelessness. Working across diverse media helps me triangulate the organizing lines, the pulses that create, connect, and sustain. I am also committed to the rigorous, cross-disciplinary study of form through natural sciences, mathematics, philosophy, technology, and my own qualia + observation & feedback. Underlying all of this is the pure intention to make beacons of embodied/enacted/protected/charged stillness, the exhale of everything you’re ready to let go of, and the inhale of everything you’re called to be.
    I rewired myself through painting like this: extre I rewired myself through painting like this: extremely slow and deliberate, stippling the entire surface of the canvas with translucent tints, layer after layer, day by day, until it hums visually. This particular piece was painted on handwoven linen from over 100 years ago—the strong and variegated grain is visible in the last image. Spending weeks inside this fantasia of gradients and axial movements tunes me. It’s like running a magnet over a needle until it, too, becomes magnetized, exerting its charge in the field. Not (so) esoteric, just a matter-of-fact proportion of time spent in focused attention. I’ve been told my paintings shift and cohere the spaces they hang in, too ✨🙏 Dowsing the Dark for Light 90 x 60 cm Oil on linen 2025
    My way of painting is… different 😌 more ASMR than My way of painting is… different 😌 more ASMR than action, more field than focus, more stippling than stroking. After putting together this (partial) timelapse, I realized that I’m not so stimulating to watch—unless you’re the type who sits and stares at leaves parachuting down from the sky, micro streams refracting light, and grass limboing to the wind’s delight. Which (hello I see you 🍃😌🍃) most of you are. So, enjoy 🥰🤗🤪🐚🤲🏻
    No advertisements were harmed in the photoshopping No advertisements were harmed in the photoshopping of my paintings over billboards in Berlin. I just wanted to imagine a soft intervention, a decongestion of our lines of sight
    Where I’m from is where I’ll always be loved, even Where I’m from is where I’ll always be loved, even though I’ve been away for so, so long. A love letter (in photos) to the family I’ve had since day one, the most improbable, charged, fascinating, diverse, patient, and supportive. P.S. just wait until the *extended* family post. We’re what happens when a renaissance fair attacks a carnival of cultures and then raves the shock away 👀💖
    Sun-Pulled and Earth-Bound I had some fun slicing Sun-Pulled and Earth-Bound I had some fun slicing up old paper palettes, then puzzling the pieces together into a sort of floral lattice matrix. (After the detail shots you’ll see a bit of the process.) The paper is thick with the history of a year’s worth of paintings. I didn’t know what I was saving these palette-impressions for, and I’m not sure I’d do this again; but it feels really good to make something out of things I would normally throw away.
    more experiments with procedural networks and flow more experiments with procedural networks and flow fields + rumination on these narrative storm systems we keep diving headlong into. HUMAN WEATHER made with TouchDesigner & Adobe Premiere
    Too Close for a Whisper, Too Far for a Kiss Oil o Too Close for a Whisper, Too Far for a Kiss Oil on linen, 2017 (8 years later, here I am again — just way more inclined to trustingly lean in 🌊)
    a̷͙͂r̸̜̈́̔͑̀̈́͑̕͘ċ̵̪̤͎̙͍͙͚̖̖̓̎̑͝ͅh̵͕̫̥̳̟̗̀̋͐͗͂̆͌̎͆̉ a̷͙͂r̸̜̈́̔͑̀̈́͑̕͘ċ̵̪̤͎̙͍͙͚̖̖̓̎̑͝ͅh̵͕̫̥̳̟̗̘̳̳̀̋͐͗͂̆͌̎͆̉i̵̼͔̫̯̜͑̃͗͛̍͘͜ͅͅv̸̡̛̖̿̀́͌̑̈͆a̶̼͉̒̏̒́͛̊̎̓́l̸̡̯͍̇̿̑̀̑̐͆͛̑ ̶̰̓́͊̈́̓̕͝r̶̢͙͓͂̑̎̈̍̌̚ͅē̷͔̹͙̽͜s̵͓̙͍̠̐̇̔̀̅̎̚u̷̬̍̓͑͘̕r̵̺̘̽́̀͠f̶̡̛͙̦̦̱̼͖̃̂͑͒͜͝͠ḁ̴̰͖̼̼͖̹̻̈͛͂͌͘c̴̮̏͂͋͛̓̊͋̓į̷̡̲͔͍̟̪̬͚̱̽ń̶̨̘̥͇͍͕͙̘̆̑̐̀g̴͖̟̪͖̼͑̓͋̐s̴̛̳̝͙̬͖̜̰̪͖̹͐͒̅̃̓̽̑͠͠ I don’t take the continuance of self for granted, and I’ve never been precious about style. 
If you knew my work from before, you’ve seen what happens when the hand is intentionally untrained of its old gestures—given a chance to meet an old friend anew. #1 is an ode to the excavations I make in my own archive. Earlier paintings become ground to brush away or build on. What endures are certain shapes and forms—quiet contours behind all the surface noise. Style is a passing civilization. What draws me back are the forms that persist—fragments that survive collapse, seeds for whatever comes next. #2 is another kind of resurfacing—a project called SelfOS, which lets me connect with my archive in a more embodied, intuitive way. #3 is an experiment with TITLES.xyz—an AI model trained on my archive. I’ve never wanted my style to end up in storage. Letting it circulate—sometimes recognized, sometimes transformed—feels more true. I’m interested in seeing what grows out of this openness. (Link in bio if you want to try the model)
    I Met You as a Shadow, and You Met Me as a Light I Met You as a Shadow, and You Met Me as a Light 175 x 125 cm Oil on linen 2025 Currently on view at @quantum.galerie as part of the group show MASCULINITY, curated by @riverxart and @kskoma and featuring work by Ann Hirsch • Bernardo Martins • Clownvamp • jiwa • Michelle Thompson • Maya Man • MP • Anastasia Pilepchuk • Onyx Chladilová • Osinachi • Oona • River Davis • Steve Pikelny • Tabitha Swanson • Weseeclearly • Yuval Shatz • Yuyu
    ✢ The part of me that is human wants to hold on Th ✢ The part of me that is human wants to hold on The part of me that is spirit knows to let go ✦ (assemblage of doodles, images, and words. 2025) @akune_hideyuki thank you for showing me Goto, and thank you for taking these photos 🫶
    I painted this during my time as a resident of the I painted this during my time as a resident of the sky, where clouds taught me to lay down my tools and gather each hue like water held loosely in the palm (congregations of mist leaning into brightness), where the rain showed me there is no center, only presence, reverberating at the peripheries; where the moon inspired me to become weather, become myth, become alloy—above the busyness of smaller crestings; where the birds helped me to accept the sky; where the air whispered, “when unheld, you rise.” In other words, this painting was precipitated out of a cloud-way of being, and I don’t even have to look at it to be reminded (resonated, through and through,) that sky* is the sanctuary with no key, that sky* is what happens when you withdraw the lock entirely, that sky* is what you become when you stop trying to fly, that you are sky*, veined with all the light. *an inner and outer realm, where every limit thins to illumination The Bond Between Thunder and Dawn 130 x 135 cm oil on linen 2025
    Light is the first mask, the oldest face: glare, s Light is the first mask, the oldest face: glare, shadow, reflection, the streak of gold sliding through the cracks men chip and cherish. To bring hardness into offering—a painted stone, a cup unspilled, a word risked in the margin of midnight—is spellwork handed down, each stroke carrying a secret ache, a dare. (Hi 👋🧖🏻) Fukue Island 福江島, Japan, 2025
    When I reach the limits of my striving, only then When I reach the limits of my striving, only then will I truly be held. “Beheld at the Last Stopinder” 150 x 140 cm Oil on linen available as print and original
    a jacket for interfacers designed and sewn by me a jacket for interfacers designed and sewn by me but made from a shared memory… I am remembering a cloud way of being a precipitatory release and retreat a flash blossoming among winter-hardened twigs. I’ve observed what seems to be a distributed network of individuals who appear where flow has calcified only to shock it back into being. Their methods vary greatly in expression, but all leave marks of inversion: what was hidden becomes visible, what was closed opens, what was lost is found. This jacket represents such an inside-out transformation from sheathe to blossoming and back, a blend-right-in gray which petals around into a spell-breaking signal of, Hibernation’s Over, Time To Wake Up!

Japanese denim, repurposed silk, hand-stitching throughout Size 50 / M-L one of a kind* *I intend to produce facsimiles of this piece in similar materials. Comment/DM if interested and I’d be happy to provide a sense of cost & timing.
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