In Corde Coeli (47)

An incandescent green bursts from the top of the canvas, streaked with yellow flashes, like a sky crossed by solar energies. Below, a wave of azure and cobalt blue breaks forth, splashed with pink and violet touches clinging like scattered embers. On the left, orange and golden bursts erupt, recalling the suddenness of lightning, while on the right, darker zones open like deep abysses. Everything seems in motion: light never stops, it circulates, it explodes, it condenses. The canvas breathes excess and profusion, a flamboyant generosity where each color seeks its place without ever extinguishing the others. The gaze is drawn in, carried from one zone to another, as though swept into a cosmic dance where order is born from chaos. And if this effervescence were nothing other than the image of life itself—an ungraspable torrent that flows through us and carries us toward horizons we do not yet suspect?