A child sits alone on a mattress, covering their ears while a closed door towers above them. The room is dark, heavy and uncertain. Only a narrow line of light enters through the edge of the doorway—a fragile sign that another reality may still exist beyond the fear.

The Door explores domestic violence from the perspective of the child who witnesses, hears or experiences what happens behind closed doors. The child’s face remains undefined because the work is not about one individual story. It represents the many children whose fear is often invisible to the outside world.

I created this piece from a deeply personal connection to child protection. Through my work in the youth welfare and child-protection field, I encountered situations that stayed with me long after the immediate work was over. I witnessed how violence can shape a child’s sense of safety, how fear can remain in the body even when a room becomes quiet, and how much responsibility comes with being one of the adults expected to recognise, protect and act.

The child covers their ears, but the pose also suggests something more: the attempt to retreat inward when there is nowhere physically safe to go. The enormous door reflects how threatening the adult world can feel from a child’s perspective. It dominates the room, while the child appears small beneath it.

Yet the door is not completely closed.

The narrow light represents intervention, protection and the possibility of change. It stands for the moment someone notices, listens and refuses to look away. It is the possibility that fear does not have to become a permanent home.

This artwork carries both the helplessness of witnessing a child’s fear and the responsibility of trying to create a path toward safety. It is a reminder that child protection begins when silence is interrupted—and when a child’s fear is taken seriously.