Sometimes a painting tells you what it wants to be called, but not right away.
When I started this one, I wasn't thinking about names. I was focused on his eyes. The stillness in them. The way he seemed to hold something back, not in fear, but in silent strength. Like he was waiting. Like he knew.
As the painting took shape, I kept coming back to that feeling. That weight behind his gaze. He didn't look loud. He didn't look angry. But there was fire in him. Controlled. Contained. The kind that only shows itself when it needs to.
That's when the word came to me: flint.
Flint doesn't burn on its own. You have to strike it. But when you do, it sparks. It's unassuming, but essential. Strong. Enduring.
And this boy, this imagined boy, felt exactly like that.
That's why I named the painting Inner Flint. Because what's inside him... that quiet fire... that's the part that lasts.
 
"24x"36 oil on canvas. Painted in rich, layered oils on a 100% cotton, triple-primed, acid-free canvas. Frame not included.