Stitch, usually all chaos and motion, is locked in a moment of total calm. He’s centered, alone, surrounded by negative space. The surfboard spells ohana. It’s embedded in the surface like a memory you can feel more than see. The matte finish of his body and the glossy of the sea, create a quiet push and pull. He’s part of the world, but doesn’t quite belong to it anymore. His eyes are the only glossy part of him. They hold the story. Not a cartoon story, but a human one. Grief, displacement, distance. There’s no one around, yet the painting feels full. Full of what’s missing. It’s not about Stitch. It’s about anyone who’s ever felt left behind by love.