In Corde Coeli (77)

Green and golden columns rise like frozen flames, while pink and purple veils spread in translucent layers. Below, bursts of turquoise and deep blue spring forth like luminous springs, contrasting with the shadow surfacing in the hollows. The whole vibrates like a fluid cathedral, built not of stone but of light and breath. The composition evokes an inner sanctuary: luminous verticals become pillars, dark zones secret chapels, and each colored burst a moving stained glass. The gaze is invited to be guided, to pass through these portals of color in order to enter a vaster dimension. Here, the painting does not represent a place—it creates it, it opens it. And if these columns of light were only the reflection of the invisible temples rising within each of us, whenever we welcome beauty in the silence of our heart?