The love we were taught
Before we ever fall in love ourselves, someone has already painted a picture for us. Our parents become our first example. We watch how they care for each other during their highest of highs and lowest of lows, how they consider each other in their everyday decisions, how they speak about each other when one is not around, how they argue, how they repair conflict, how they protect each other, how they understand each other, face challenges together, find peace or pain in each other and grow together. We learn whether love is safe, predictable, expressive, reserved, or unwavering.
Then society picks up the brush. Movies show us lust, chemistry over compatibility, jealousy, butterflies, chaos, insecurity, curated moments, perfect person, unperfect timing, one soul mate, multiple soul mates… the list goes on really.
By the time we experience and grow love for ourselves we are rarely starting from a blank canvas. We carry inherited expectations and ideals.
What is your idea of love?
What does it mean to love anything at all?
Because romantic love is only one room in the gallery.
We can love ourselves, our family, friends, partner, pets… But we can also love a song, a painting, a city, a project, fried chicken.
A building is simply stone, steel, glass, wood, concrete. But when designed with intention, it becomes something more. It creates a feeling that exists beyond its physical materials.
A canvas is only pigment and texture. But somehow an artist can capture grief, longing, joy, wonder or LOVE and make us feel connected to someone we’ve never met, even someone who lived hundreds of years ago.
This is the mystery of love.
Our hearts are not filled with one single masterpiece. They are filled with hundreds of paintings. A childhood memory, a parent’s embrace, a friend’s thoughtfulness, a supportive community, a mentor who was tough af on us.
Every experience leaves behind a brushstroke. Together they become the collection that shapes who we are.
I love Mahima’s work because she embodies love, solitude, grace, understanding and the weight we carry around it all so well. And in a way words can’t always explain. To me, her works show peaceful love, quiet love, steady love, growing in love. The kind that doesn’t need to prove itself. It just is.
And it keeps growing and compounding.
The gallery of the heart
I believe the greatest art we will ever create is not something we leave behind. It is the way we loved.
You can see more of Mahima’s works here.
First published on Katreena’s Substack. Read and subscribe there.
