Art has a remarkable way of immortalizing emotions, capturing the fleeting moments that define our deepest connections. One such emotion—longing—is a thread that runs through many of our most poignant experiences, especially when someone we love is no longer physically present. The emotional void left by their absence can be profound, yet, paradoxically, the echoes of their presence can still linger, shaping our thoughts and actions long after they've gone. This delicate interplay between memory and absence is the heart of But You’re Not There Now, which explores how love continues to reverberate in the spaces we inhabit, even in the silence that follows.

In this work, I wanted to portray not only the absence of a loved one but also the residual presence they leave behind. It's a study in contrasts: the sharpness of memory meets the emptiness of absence. We often think of memory as something that keeps the person alive in our minds, but the void it creates is equally significant. The image evokes a space where the person is absent but still ever-present—where the echoes of their laughter, their words, and their touch resonate in the quiet.

The delicate balance between memory and absence speaks to the fragility of human connection. It is a reminder that love doesn’t always fade with time; instead, it transforms into something quieter, more subtle, but just as powerful. In this way, memory becomes not just a tool for remembrance, but a living thing, capable of filling the spaces left behind in ways both comforting and haunting. The emotional void created by absence is not just a space of sorrow; it is a space where memory, love, and longing come together to create a story that continues to unfold.