An elder looks on with the quiet presence of someone who has seen generations come and go. I imagine her as an ancestor - watching from the next realm, not with judgment, but with care.

There is a tender kind of pride in simply existing. Our elders can be proud of us because we are here, because we continue, because we are trying. But as Native/Indigenous people, we also understand that there is work to be done. Our elders have pushed us to challenge ourselves, to look deeper, and to seek a stillness within ourselves, the land, and somehow each other.

My favorite part of this piece is her hands. I have always loved painting hands, but when I began painting the veins of this elder, something changed in me. Imitating the color beneath the skin - the quiet hues of blue, purple, and human warmth - felt extraordinary. It is home.

Hands become more than a detail in every part of my work. They feel like evidence of a life lived: of work, care, age, touch, and everything carried through the body. In painting them, I feel a closeness to the being that I can't fully explain.

Perhaps that is part of what she is watching for - not a finished person, but the willingness to keep looking deeper and to keep aiming.

This piece is also part of a larger collective image - one I have seen referenced and reimagined by other artists who seem to hold a similar reverence for the elder. I wanted to contribute my own interpretation to that visual language: an elder as witness, ancestor, and quiet source of strength.