Quintessence (118)

This painting opens like a vertiginous descent into a coral reef transfigured by cosmic light. Deep blues merge with celestial violets, while bursts of yellow and green erupt like tropical corollas in the midst of the abyss. Every form appears alive: an anemone, a marine mushroom, a translucent flower—so many fragile beings suspended between water and light. One senses the secret breath of an aquatic sap, the vital impetus that irrigates the infinite. The substance organises itself into luxuriant gardens, where each cell, each daub of colour, becomes a miniature star or a delicate coral. The universe doubles: the macrocosm of the sky and the microcosm of the depths mirror one another. It is a sanctuary where the eye wanders, oscillating between wonder and reverence, as though we were witnessing the silent genesis of a parallel world. This profusion reminds us how life springs forth from both abundance and fragility. The forms dissolve as soon as they reveal themselves, ephemeral as foam or as the light of a dying star. Confronted with this mystery, one question arises: what if the oceans of our Earth were the living archives of the sky, preserving within them the earliest memories of Creation?