The Gallery — Malika Sharma

Mirrors & Masks

Self-portraits and the faces we carry. In this room, identity is a surface that keeps moving: haloed, borrowed, witnessed.

Reflection

2026 · Oil paint on canvas · 20 × 24 in

There are times when I can’t quite see my reflection in the mirror. The eyes that seem to change colour, or the hues of flesh that adapt to its surroundings. The image in the mirror is never the same, constantly changing - depending on the light of day or the surrounding mood.

I don’t know what I look like. Not to myself, neither to another. Hence, I paint to see myself. The colours and the lines that make me. To see the distance between I and myself. To see what I am, and what I shall become. A reflection that is always becoming yet is never fully made.

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Faceless

2023 · Charcoal and graphite · 18 × 24 in

I don’t have a face. Yet I lay upon masks. I am not myself. There is no I. I am all the people I have met, in every path I have crossed. Every person that was passed down to me and every person that lives through me. I am a mirror, a reflection of the humanness that dances within me. An accumulation of all I have witnessed and all I have encompassed.

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My Last

2025 · Oil on canvas · 18 × 20 in

I looked at the moon. The moon who was within a daze. To forget that the sun had its eyes on me. The sun, who was a fool for it, envied the moon. Spend your life chasing after an empty glass. Don’t you see, your eyes are hollow. Cheers to another year.

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Witness

2024 · Watercolour on paper · 18 × 24 in

The symbolism of the eyes represents nature; the plants and the land have all borne witness to what has transpired. If one were to peer into the woman’s eyes you would see fatigue. But also a sense of tranquility. The painting represents how there is always a witness to the truth, to what has transpired and will transpire. There is a coming to terms, a reconciliation, as the plants continue to grow and to witness new moments, allowing for a sense of ease and peace to take over.

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The Garden

Blooms held against time. Longing and cherishment, painted while the flowers were already leaving.

Fading Flowers

2023 · Oil paint on canvas · 11 × 14 in

Each year, hydrangeas only bloom for a short-period of two weeks. Yet I find myself daydreaming about them, for the entirety of the year. Wondering when it will be summer again. This piece not only represents longing but also cherishment. Well-being isn’t only about finding peace in the present moment. It’s also about having something to look forward to. It’s knowing that though the joy and beauty of the flowers are fleeting, it will return in its own time.

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Cold Summer

2026 · Oil paint on canvas

It was within pure frost that I created this art piece. I simply craved summer. In the midst of a winter storm during the beginning of the year, I found myself longing for summer. New years-the freshest start, it was all green to me. As if everything has returned to life within the frost. I craved the happiest of memories I made when the world was green. The swaying of the leaves, and the ever blue sky. A warmth that lingered, one I couldn’t forget. Even if I wanted to. Though it was winter, summer bloomed in my heart.

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Untitled

2025 · Oil on canvas

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Wall of Roses

2025 · Acrylic on wall

“I didn’t need a wall of roses, I became them in my bloom… I guess the roses have bloomed upon me.”

Inscribed by the artist within the mural itself.

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Water & Motion

Tides, drift and dance. Joy that knows it is temporary, and moves anyway.

The Ship that Sailed

2023 · Oil paint on canvas · 48 × 60 in

“I wish to paint the water as if it’s laughing.”

Laughter is unique to humans - the only creature that bares its teeth when in joy. Whereas, other creatures bare their teeth as a warning. I want the water I paint to represent the joy yet ever-present terror that is present in its beauty. Capturing the emotion of joy. It’s beautiful, chaotic and radiant. Though for those who have a little more years in them, know it’s temporary. For what once was vigorous must come to an end.

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Pieces

2024 · Watercolour on rice paper

Memories of the past do not evoke nostalgia, its terror. In a sense the way a burn is etched into your skin. A haze of the figure in the mirror, can you truly say it’s you, the same you from a decade ago. Sometimes it’s the bright burning sun that clears up the fog. I see myself in these memories I have strung along. From a blaze to a haze of summer days, laying with the flowers; dancing with the sun.

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Afloat

2026 · Oil on canvas

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Reunion

2026 · Oil paint on canvas · 22 × 28 in

Conflict is inevitable, but so is movement. I refused stillness, the inevitable. I did not know how to dance and yet I did. In movement restoration was found. Refusing to dance, I refused myself of becoming. Yet, in absence of movement I found safety, knowing my feet were firmly planted on the ground. The fragments from conflicts around, felt so small in front of that step I took. As one foot placed itself in front of the other, it felt as if the world was my own. Telling me that, I shall stumble but not fall. In a moment that was mine, in a moment where I was truly myself. All these pieces came together and placed themselves in order. Through gentle steps in the circle I make around this self, only to obtain myself. A precious reunion of separation. A self that was always there, a step away. Awaiting for me to return. The beauty of restoration, in unity, transformation and dance. Finding my feet back, right where I started.

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End of the Walk

One more room remains: every work, hung together on a single wall.

Continue to the Salon

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