Stepping into the space feels like stumbling across the remnants of a childhood dream: soft corners, a scattering of toys, walls alive with paintings of little girls whose faces are round and sweet, yet stubbornly unreadable. It takes a moment to notice the unease – the colours are bright, but the girls never smile, not with their mouths nor their eyes. That absence becomes the point. These works imagine children who inherit a world already damaged, a place where innocence exists but can’t quite shield them from the ruin beneath. Their painted stillness feels familiar because it mirrors the way we carry on, in a time where catastrophe has become background noise. The paintings offer a pause, a reminder that happiness may have to be excavated rather than found.
Until August 3. Free. Joyman Gallery, 11am-6pm