64×54cm, acrylic on linen, framed
A gathering of forms that feel half-botanical, half-mechanical, this bouquet hums with a quiet inner life. Yellow blooms drift between flower and invention, as if memory itself were sketching what it once knew about nature. The black ground holds everything in suspension, giving the composition a sense of both stillness and subtle vibration.
It is a bouquet not arranged by hand, but assembled by perception—where observation, imagination, and time braid themselves into something luminous and slightly otherworldly.
64×54cm, acrylic on linen, framed
A gathering of forms that feel half-botanical, half-mechanical, this bouquet hums with a quiet inner life. Yellow blooms drift between flower and invention, as if memory itself were sketching what it once knew about nature. The black ground holds everything in suspension, giving the composition a sense of both stillness and subtle vibration.
It is a bouquet not arranged by hand, but assembled by perception—where observation, imagination, and time braid themselves into something luminous and slightly otherworldly.