Endometriosis — an illustration about self-care, boundaries and strength.
This illustration is not based on personal illness. I do not have endometriosis. It grew instead out of listening — to stories, conversations, and reading about how women’s pain has been misunderstood, minimized or labeled as “hysteria” for generations. I first became aware of the scale of this problem through Frankie Magazine, and later through Invisible Women by Caroline Criado Perez, which made it impossible to ignore how deeply structural this issue really is.
What struck me most was not only medical bias, but language itself — how easily women’s experiences are dismissed, sometimes even by other women. This work is a response to that reality.
Rather than focusing on anger or confrontation, I chose a different direction this time. Instead of centering pain and injustice, I wanted to focus on self-awareness, care and inner authority. Not because injustice disappears when ignored, but because inner strength often offers more agency than constant struggle. You may not always be able to silence the noise around you, but you can have the strength not to be shouted over.
A layered, analogue approach.
As with most of my work, this illustration began quietly — in my notebook. Early sketches were used to explore posture, balance and emotional tone, allowing the core idea to settle before moving into materials. That initial direction remained present throughout the process, guiding later decisions rather than being overwritten by them.
The final piece was created as an analogue mixed media illustration, combining hand-drawn pencil work, paper collage and textured surfaces. This layered process is central to my practice — it allows fragility and weight to exist side by side, while maintaining clarity and cohesion.
The fern leaves in the background are based on scanned plants from my own garden, later transformed into cyanotypes. Ferns carry associations of cyclical growth, endurance and quiet resilience — plants that thrive in shade rather than full light. That felt essential to this story. The slow, imperfect cyanotype process reinforces attentiveness and patience, placing the work within textured mixed media illustration and atmospheric illustration.
Symbolism rooted in care, not spectacle.
The thistle surrounding the figure acts as a natural protective barrier. Its flowers are soft and delicate, while the stems become heavy, black and geometric, built from cut paper. This contrast reflects the necessity of boundaries — a reminder that sensitivity and strength are not opposites.
An orchid drawn in pencil rests on the abdomen, at the place of the uterus. It symbolizes female embodiment, vulnerability and inner life — aspects of women’s health that have long been ignored or objectified. Here, they are treated with quiet respect rather than explanation.
The closed eyes and relaxed hands, palms turned upward, reference mindfulness and nervous-system regulation. This is a mind–body illustration that frames the body as an ally — something to listen to, protect and trust.
A small candle appears as part of a quiet, familiar ritual of self-care: light, scent, stillness, a moment set aside. It suggests space rather than instruction — a pause for calm, presence and restoration, without urgency or performance.
Colour, emotion and use.
The palette is built around deep, muted burgundy reds and soft pinks, with restrained accents of yellow and black. Colour functions here as emotional structure rather than decoration, holding space for pain without allowing it to dominate the narrative.
This mixed media lifestyle illustration is well suited for women’s magazines, wellbeing publications and editorial contexts, as well as book covers focused on mindfulness and women’s health. Its decorative yet grounded quality also makes it suitable as a wall hanging, art print or postcard.
It is an example of emotional wellness illustration that speaks about self-trust, care and embodied awareness — without needing to explain everything.
