Every investigation begins with a question.

Case #0018 began with an empty room.

The chair was empty. Someone poured two cups of tea. Beyond the window, there was a forest that stretched into the distance. Everything looked intentional, but there were no answers yet.

As always, I started documenting the evidence.

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WHAT WAS THE MYSTERY?

One of the strange things about these investigations is that the mystery is always discovering what the mystery actually is.

I never know at the beginning.

I only discover it by following the evidence.

In Case #0018, I eventually realized the mystery wasn’t the room. It wasn’t the teacups, either, although they pointed me in the right direction.

The real mystery became:

Why is she outside?

I couldn’t have answered that question without making the artwork first.

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WHAT CHANGED?

Almost everything.

The view beyond the window became an ocean, then a forest. The foliage shifted. The lighting changed. Colors warmed and cooled. New evidence appeared while other ideas disappeared quietly.

This investigation produced an unusual number of what I call red herrings, directions that seemed promising but ultimately led nowhere.

For a long time, I believed the left side of the composition needed a staircase leading up into the forest. I spent hours trying to make it believable.

Eventually, I realized it was solving the wrong problem.

Once the staircase disappeared, the real mystery came into focus, two still-steaming teacups... and one woman standing outside.

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BIGGEST SURPRISE?

Removing the staircase.

I love staircases that lead nowhere. They’re one of my favorite visual motifs.

This was the first investigation in which I heard that quiet, creative voice say, “Kill your darlings.”

In writing, that phrase means removing something you love because the work is stronger without it.

The same rule applies to surreal collage.

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WHAT ALMOST HAPPENED?

I almost kept the staircase simply because I’d already invested so much time trying to blend it into the forest.

It wasn’t terrible.

It just wasn’t right.

More importantly, it competed with the real mystery. Every time my eye wandered toward the staircase, it wandered away from the teacups and the woman beyond the window.

Sometimes the hardest part of an investigation isn’t finding new evidence.

It’s letting go of evidence that doesn’t belong.

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FINAL ANSWER

For me, the answer to the mystery is simple.

She belongs in the forest.

It’s where she’s most herself.

But that’s only my conclusion.

Every case remains open to interpretation, and your answer may differ from mine.

That’s one of my favorite parts of these investigations.

Every artwork I make, and every investigation I document, is a reflection of me. I have more than one me. 

There’s the me that sits inside with tea (to be honest, coffee), and she is the familiar one.

And there’s me who’s growing into someone new.

That tension can be uncomfortable. It can feel like I’ve wandered away from where I’m supposed to be, or that everyone else understands the map except me. For a while, it’s tempting to believe I’ve taken a wrong turn. 

But sometimes the discomfort isn’t a sign I’m lost.

Working on Case #0018 reminded me that not every unanswered question needs to be solved immediately. Sometimes the clearest answer only appears after I’ve exhausted the obvious ones.

Wonder works that way, too.

It asks us to stay with the question a little longer.

To notice the clues we almost overlooked.

To trust that today’s dead end might become tomorrow’s breakthrough.

And now and then, after following the evidence far enough, you discover the mystery wasn’t about the room at all.

It was about becoming the person who belonged in the forest.