Hala Kusiak doesn’t paint to impress. She paints to awaken. Her work doesn’t beg for attention—it stands quietly, steadily, inviting viewers to take a second look. And when they do, something happens. Her art doesn’t just appeal to the eyes—it stirs the mind, and often, something deeper. She calls this process an “emotional awakening.” It’s not marketing talk. It’s the core of her practice.
Kusiak refers to herself as a bold and forward-thinking artist, but she’s not interested in flash. Her work is rooted in connection—between people, generations, and the inner architecture of our lives. She talks about “constructional functional theory,” a phrase that sounds like engineering but, in her hands, becomes emotional structure. Her paintings suggest order, but not rigidity. They offer a frame for reflection—a chance to slow down, reconsider, and reconnect with parts of ourselves we usually rush past.
One of her recent works, A Glass of Wine (2024), takes this approach and pours it into a quietly glowing moment.
The painting is large—142 cm high by 95 cm wide. It’s acrylic on canvas, painted in a palette of reds, oranges, and soft corals. At first glance, it’s simple: a wine glass on the left, a bottle on the right. But the longer you look, the more it starts to unfold.
The left side of the canvas holds a tall, slender glass. Inside it are two glowing orbs, pink and warm, hovering in the space like small suns. They aren’t just decorative. They suggest presence—two spirits, two energies, maybe two people. The stem of the glass is firm, stable, grounded. There’s structure here, even restraint. But the orbs are alive. They feel like the emotional center of the piece.
On the right, the bottle. Unlike the glass, the bottle isn’t minimal or clean. It’s busy, organic. Curving floral lines, swirling motifs in white, pink, and orange—it feels alive, even animated. If the glass represents composure, the bottle feels more like what happens when that composure fades. It’s an image of openness, vulnerability, maybe even joy.
The two sides don’t clash—they complement. There’s tension between the clear geometry of the glass and the unruly decoration of the bottle. But it’s a productive tension. It reads like a conversation between two states of being: the public self and the private one. The measured exterior and the emotional interior. One doesn’t negate the other—they coexist, like the two orbs in the glass.
Throughout the composition are tiny circular shapes—maybe berries, bubbles, or just decorative dots. They float across the canvas like confetti, giving the work a celebratory feel. They keep it from getting too serious, too heavy. It’s an artwork about emotion, but it doesn’t lean into drama. It’s more about warmth. Connection. Softness.
The dark background makes the reds and pinks glow more intensely, adding a kind of intimacy to the scene. It’s like candlelight—quiet but charged. There’s a sense that the viewer has stepped into a private moment, one that might not be repeated.
Kusiak isn’t making a literal portrait of drinking wine. She’s using wine as a metaphor—for transformation, for connection, for the loosening of the lines between self and other. The act of drinking, in this case, becomes a doorway into self-discovery. And the painting, like the wine it represents, invites you to sit with it. To take your time.
What makes A Glass of Wine work is how it balances discipline and emotion. The wine glass is controlled. The bottle is free. Together, they echo a deeper idea—that we all carry both parts. We perform and protect. But we also long to share, to be seen. Kusiak finds beauty in the contrast, not in the resolution.
In a time when art often aims to be loud or clever, Kusiak’s work is something else. It’s calm. It’s reflective. It asks you to bring something of yourself to the table. And if you do, it offers something back—not a message, but a space. A framework. A small emotional architecture, waiting to be entered.
