Solitude

In a world paused by uncertainty, Solitude captures the quiet ache of disconnection. The room—tall, stark, and coolly lit—serves as both a physical space and an emotional void, inspired by the blank walls of my apartment in Chicago. Its refined, almost sterile design reflects a life that appears well-ordered on the surface, yet underneath, there is a profound sense of absence. The lone figure, small against the vastness of the room, gazes longingly through the large windows. Outside, the soft glow of lights from neighboring apartments offers a glimpse of life continuing, but for him, it is untouchable—residing in a distant world he can no longer access.

The glowing windows of the six-story apartment building become silent witnesses to his isolation, each light representing lives lived in parallel yet separate, evoking the shared but disconnected experience of the pandemic. The man’s posture—still, almost frozen—suggests the weight of this isolation. Though surrounded by modern comforts and refinement, the space feels hollow, echoing the deeper emotional landscape of yearning for contact, for warmth, for human connection that once seemed so ordinary.

Solitude is a meditation on the human condition during a time of profound global isolation. It invites the viewer to confront the tension between external appearance and internal desolation, between presence and absence, and ultimately between the yearning for connection and the void that remains when it is lost.