Boreal Spring (8)

In this painting, a large white ship’s sail soars upward. It’s a dreamlike sail, open to the light, resembling a crescent moon. Around it, the matter teems: glowing pinks, soft greens, golds, turquoise, purples… The boat almost disappears in this abundance. It’s as if the traveler, after a long search for their destination, suddenly realizes they are transforming themselves. Because some journeys don’t lead us to a place. They lead us to a different state of being. The vertical drips running down the canvas evoke submerged roots, while the white streaks bursting to the right look like rays, sea spray, or seeds carried by the wind. Everything seems simultaneously rooted and poised to take flight. This contradiction is beautiful: to be anchored and set off, to belong yet remain free, to finally find a refuge without giving up the horizon. Perhaps this is what the “northern spring” means: not a return to the world as it was, but the emergence of a new world after the passage. The light never comes back exactly as the one we lost. Neither do we. After some winters, we don’t awaken as who we once were. We bloom anew...