cold leftovers

solo exhibition

Wayne, PA

January 9th - February 6th, 2025

Exhibition Statement

Under the blinking warm bulb / rests a quaint little bed / on a small broken frame.

Struggling to peel my legs / from the sheets / my body tumbles / Onto the shag carpet, 

full of dust and ruby hair.

One foot in front of the other / we drag 140 pounds  / down the stairs,

across scratched laminate, / to a fridge, / decorated with fingerprints 

reaching to the back / for week-old leftovers.

In this solo presentation, ideas once left behind take center stage. Through this series of battle-worn paintings, Bhare sifts through the good, the bad, and the ugly—depictions of ordinary life layered with color and line, emotions at their peak of instability, and things better left unsaid. He reflects on whether he has discovered a deeper well while growing as an artist or if his past ideas will outshine anything he could create in the future. The remnants of his emotions run cold, but with the right care, they could be warmed into something great.

Catalog of Works

  • hors d'oeuvres

    appetizers of the exhibit

  • one

    wings sewn to scrappy ankles fail to carry my weight.
    i’ve overcompensated,
    and remain afraid to live and die.

    — even icarus fell from the skies above us.

  • southeast cowgirl

    could I truly find the freedom of the wild west on the southeastern shore?

  • sword and shield

    he wouldn't be a holy knight.

  • the marina (where boats always float)

    It's not so much a question of if I could survive out at sea, exploring some of the great unknowns. Watching the boats teeter from side to side, anchored to the splitting wood under my feet. The water nourishes life as long as it keeps moving. Even if I lose my balance and fall above the algae, I believe the shore would cradle me gently. The allure of what lies beyond or beneath the teetering boats disrupts the tranquil moment.

  • free weights

    Description goes here

  • wingspan

    I wasn't a bird enthusiast until I needed a flock from birds of a feather.

  • missing someone

    is it possible to miss someone who was never there to begin with?

  • how to deal with death

    It hurts to feel like such an act is impossible. To even think of speaking on it, my mind grabs hold of my tongue so tightly, words seem impossible.. Settling for memories over a physical connection; the warm embrace of hug.

    Surely it's easier to shed a tear for each day that has passed them by, than to fully realize their absence. To lay your head gently in the lap of someone who understands, a comforting simple gesture.

  • in the reflection of stars

    Every so often the stars peek from behind the clouds. In the same usual spots that they are always, shining just as brightly as it did many years before.

  • they only served black beans

    In the summer of '19, she said people like me were black beans. That little can on the mid shelf of the market. Blue label with a seemingly infinite shelf life. I would say that I was shocked, though I don't feel like lying. Black beans lingered in my mind, sparking introspection and creative exploration. Within the evocative scene depicted at a dining table, the exclusive presence of black beans serves as a powerful metaphor, symbolizing themes of identity, societal perceptions, and the persistence of subtle biases."

  • hunched over

    lower back pain isn't the only thing that comes with age.

  • cold leftovers

    i'm so sorry that there is nothing here of substance to eat.

  • i gave up

    I'd rather fall in a ditch filled with my voice, an echo chamber of pity.

Catalog PDF