The Fields of Yaaru (7)

This canvas erupts like a burst of light. Broad impastos transform into blades of colored wind, shooting out in every direction. Greens, at times tender, at times deep, rise in a vegetal architecture, like supple stems coursed through with energy. At the heart of this surge, flowers explode into red and fuchsia corollas, like flames suspended in the air. Each stroke of the knife cuts, grazes, unfurls the matter in a lively dance. The eye follows the upward momentum, as if drawn toward a source of clarity. Here, nature is both root and impulse—anchored in the earth, yet carried toward infinity. These flowers, standing tall in their abstract splendor, recall luminous beacons in an ocean of foliage. They testify to the fragile strength of the living: to bloom, to open, to offer beauty without measure.
In its vibrant tension, the canvas invites us to contemplate the vital surge that runs through us all. It proclaims that life is made of outpourings, of thrusts, of sudden explosions. And that within this tumult, it is always possible to find a center: the creative breath that binds us to nature. Before this pictorial hymn, one feels within the stirring desire to rise, to open, to blossom in turn.