There are people whom those around them have grown accustomed to seeing as happy. It seems as though they never get tired. They’re always ready to keep a conversation going, lift someone’s spirits, find the right words, and share a little of their own light with others. Over time, this becomes more than just a personality trait—it becomes a role: the role of someone who is expected to be a source of energy for everyone around them. In this work, the clown is neither a profession nor a caricature. It is a hyperbolized metaphor for a person from whom nothing but smiles are constantly expected. The head popping out of the box resembles a toy version of this person, whose task is to appear at the right moment and bring joy. But instead of laughter, the viewer is confronted with what is usually hidden from prying eyes. Inside the mechanism, a battery is running out. The heroine changes the batteries because the old ones have already run out. The long wires stretched across the floor resemble the remnants of vitality, no longer capable of sustaining the former illusion of lightness. At this moment, her hidden sadness becomes visible: the sadness in her eyes, the tension on her face, and the minimalist makeup of tears that can no longer be concealed. This work isn’t about how strong people suddenly stop being strong. It’s about how even those who are used to giving others warmth, support, and cheer eventually find themselves running on their last drops of energy. And perhaps the most important question we should ask one another is: “How are you?” Digital/procreate 5000x6000px