Beneath beams of silver sun, she emerges—rooted in love, wrapped in healing, rising through layers of lush foliage and textured dreams. “Sun Child Rising” is a celebration of self-growth and sacred restoration. A remix of two signature works—Love Child and Self Care—this piece honors the resilience of Black women, the beauty of becoming, and the quiet power of choosing yourself.

Mixed media elements—including vibrant hand-painted leaves, paper collage, and carved acrylic textures—unfold across natural wood, symbolizing a connection to nature and the divine. Every curve and curl tells a story of light breaking through, of nurturing your spirit until it blooms.

Perfect for collectors of original Black art, mixed media enthusiasts, and anyone drawn to works that reflect strength, softness, and transformation.

Next step, add a frame and bring the flowers and silver light around the edges.

Gardening with Grandad

32 x 24” | Oil on Birchwood | 2024
By Martha A. Wade

One day, my dear friend Mrs. Allen was showing me photos of her granddaughter, and I stopped her mid-scroll: “Wait, she is AMAZING. Can I paint this one?!”

She laughed and said yes — and it turned into a commissioned portrait for her son and daughter-in-law.

In the original photo, the little one was holding sandcastle toys. But something told me to place her in a garden instead. I changed the setting, the colors, the tools — not knowing at the time that her late grandfather had actually been an avid gardener. Suddenly, it all clicked.

This painting is about that invisible connection between generations — how our ancestors watch over us, guide us, and still walk beside us. She’s holding his hand, even if we can’t see it outright. I wanted the moment to feel magical, but subtle — not spooky or surreal, just true.

I lost my own father three years ago, and I still feel him around. I talk to him. I carry his lessons in my art. This piece honors that presence — the kind you can’t explain, but you know is there.

I’d love to create more like this.
A series, maybe.
Stories we carry in the garden, the kitchen, and even on car rides to work.

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