Dana Wahyu Pradana - 1994 (he/him)
My work lives between beauty and ruin.
I’m drawn to things that feel unfinished, cracked, faded by time.
But instead of hiding the damage, I let it speak.
Each brushstroke, each torn edge, is a memory made visible.
I believe that imperfection is more honest than polish.
And yet, I use color excessively.
Not to cover the cracks, but to let emotion flood through them.
I create like someone trying to remember a dream before it disappears.
Like someone who knows sadness can be sacred,
that what breaks us can also make us radiant.
This isn’t art for perfection.
This is art for those who feel too much, remember too deeply,
and still find beauty in what’s been left behind.