In Corde Coeli (55)

Rivers of light intertwine in shifting streams, as though the canvas itself were breathing. Azure blue unfolds in liquid layers, like a suspended ocean, while greens proliferate, resembling a celestial vegetation in full bloom. At the center, a magenta burst opens like a burning wound or a blazing corolla, giving the whole a vibrant, almost organic intensity. Textures overlap and scatter into luminous filaments, recalling the hidden veins of life or the auroras that tear through the polar night. The eye allows itself to be guided by this movement of expansion and retreat, like a cosmic breath. Between depth and elevation, the painting invites us to perceive that light is not limited to illuminating: it irrigates, nourishes, gives birth. And if the heart of the sky were beating within us, in the form of those invisible streams that flow through us and bind us to infinity?