About the Artist
Zaniyah Worldwide (born Hanna Jean) is a Miami-based painter of Haitian and Vietnamese descent, whose work is a living archive of personal experience and divine observation. Having traveled across every continent in search 'meaning', her art distills culture, movement, and spirit into visual form—an attempt to capture the beauty God has embedded in the human experience. A multidisciplinary creative at her core, she moves fluidly between sound, rhythm, and canvas, but it is through painting that her vision finds its truest voice.
About this months piece
Growing Pains (2026)
Zaniyah Worldwide
“Growing Pains” is a deeply personal meditation on love, loss, and transformation—marking the artist’s return to painting after heartbreak, and the first work created ahead of her 30th birthday exhibition.
The composition unfolds as a symbolic self-portrait, where the body becomes a vessel (both fragile and enduring). Emerging from the figure is a bouquet of five distinct flowers, each representing a year of a transformation. The Birds of Paradise flower captures the first year, vivid, rare, and full of wonder. The Hibiscus speaks to heritage and identity, grounding the narrative in the artist’s Haitian roots. Tropical palm leaves echo Florida, where the love began, while the evolving variations in flora reflect the unpredictability and shifting nature of time and connection.
At the center, a pale bloom suggests stillness, grief, surrender, and the quiet weight of endings. Surrounding it, deep purple Calla lilies evoke mourning and transition, embodying the emotional “funeral” of what once was.
The figure itself dissolves into a porcelain-like vase. Delicately adorned yet structurally strong, symbolizing a profound realization: the self is not the pain it carries, but the vessel that holds and transforms it. What was once overwhelming becomes contained, observed, and ultimately transcended.
Rooted in global influence and spiritual reflection, “Growing Pains” captures the divine beauty found within human experience—the quiet understanding that even in endings, there is expansion. The piece closes one chapter, while gently insisting: there is still so much more to grow.