Portfolio

My Dream Is Only You, Selena is a tragic testament to a love lost but never forgotten, painted by the incarcerated artist Pierre Buonetti. Trapped within prison walls, Pierre’s memories of Selena were all he had to keep his spirit alive. She was his light, his reason, but she was gone—a victim of time, fate, or his own mistakes. Each agonized stroke of red and black reflects the weight of his regret, the unbearable ache of a love he could never reclaim. Her tear-streaked face, tender yet distant, embodies his deepest sorrow: she exists now only in his dreams, unreachable forever.

 

“I painted I Am Only Confined with trembling hands and a heavy heart, knowing it may be the closest I’ll ever get to holding you again, Selena. Every stroke of the brush was a memory—your laughter, your touch, the way your eyes lit up when you looked at me. Here, in this cold cell, I am surrounded by walls, but the true prison is the distance between us. I poured my soul into this painting because I wanted to feel you, even if only through the canvas. I am confined, but my love for you will never be. It’s all I have left.”

 

Selena, I Breathe is a heartbreak trapped in paint, a cry from a man who has lost everything but the memory of her. Behind cold, unfeeling bars, Pierre Buonetti painted his soul onto this canvas, reaching for the woman he could no longer touch. Selena’s face glows with a softness that pierces through the darkness, yet her distant gaze speaks of an unreachable love. Every stroke is soaked in his agony, every color a reflection of the life he wishes he could return to. This painting is not just a tribute—it’s Pierre’s silent scream, his endless torment, his desperate whisper: “Selena, you are all I have left. Without you, I cannot breathe.”

 

How Will I Know is a portrait steeped in vulnerability, created by Pierre Buonetti for a woman who lingered in his thoughts but remained out of reach. Unlike his former lover Selena, this woman was someone he barely knew but whose presence ignited a quiet yearning in him. Behind bars, with nothing but time and unanswered questions, he painted her as he imagined her—elegant yet distant, her expression unreadable, her eyes holding secrets he longed to uncover. For Pierre, this painting was his silent confession, asking her a question he’d never have the chance to voice: How will I know if you feel the same?