In this new still life, the flowers are no longer formal motifs but nodes of inner destiny, concentrated fragments of time suspended between matter and spirit. They unfold and recombine in a subtle vibration, as if carrying within them the memory of vanished vegetal worlds. The work preserves the enigmatic pulse of the series “Kafkian Eternity with Flowers at 7 PM”, yet moves it into a more meditative, breathing space, where light itself seems to whisper a silent prayer.
The oneiric calligraphies — delicate, like traces of a forgotten alphabet — articulate a grammar of becoming. Matter is never inert: it dissolves, coagulates, ignites. Every gesture attempts to capture what the eye cannot hold: the trembling of small things, the humble marks of reality that hide an archetypal force within. In this sensitivity lies a deep desire to give meaning to the passing of time, to draw from the ephemeral that spark of eternity sought by so many of the great artists before.
The wide, airy space is not a background; it is a membrane of light, where reality stretches, breathes, and reconfigures itself. The floral form floats between two states of existence — one palpable and dense, the other diluted and spiritual. Here, painting becomes a threshold, an interstice between the visible and the invisible, between personal memory and the universal matrix.
Incandescent accents of orange, warm pink, and oxidized black act as vital pulses — intrusions of raw reality into a world dominated by vapor, shadow, and breath. They are fragments of burning time, traces of a world that continually consumes and regenerates itself. Within this delicate tension lies the artist’s wish to turn the transient into something enduring, to elevate the ordinary toward a quiet transcendence, a natural and intimate connection with the Great Matrix, with the unseen Creator who silently orders all that moves, breathes, and disappears.
Ultimately, the work does not depict flowers, but a state of the world — a ritual of memory that turns ephemerality into sign and light into prayer. It is a still life that refuses to remain still, becoming instead a portal toward that inner time which cannot be measured, only lived.
For me, painting the vessel of flowers is always an act of reconstructing meaning. I do not seek fidelity of form, but the hidden vibration within it — the moment when the object detaches from itself and becomes a bearer of memory, of light, of divine breath. In the vessel I search for a heart; in the flowers, a path. And perhaps in this continuous search lies my deepest wish: to give new value to time, transforming simple reality into a gesture of approaching the Creator.
