Sailing To Nineveh

Sometimes we know exactly where we need to go… yet we still take the opposite path. This painting draws inspiration from the biblical story of Jonah, the man whom God commands to go to Nineveh, but who, refusing this mission, chooses to flee by sea. But can we truly escape what calls us? The entire canvas seems to be inhabited by this very question. Against a luminous turquoise expanse, a monumental shape emerges like an impossible ship. Its sails—if they can be called sails—rise, intersect, and tear amidst a profusion of yellows, pinks, greens, and purples. Something powerful is moving forward, yet nothing clearly indicates which way. Even the material appears uncertain—surging ahead, then retracting, branching off, folding back, setting off elsewhere. The sweeping yellow curves could outline a hull, a wave, or a crescent of light, while at the center, lines converge tightly as if all the canvas’s conflicting forces meet there. Because Jonah isn’t just fleeing Nineveh. He’s fleeing a word he doesn’t want to hear. He’s fleeing a responsibility. Perhaps he’s also fleeing the part of himself that already knows some journeys can’t be avoided. The sea thus becomes the realm of this inner resistance. It is no longer merely the ocean of life; it becomes the space where our certainties are tested. We can choose our boat, raise our sails, set a course and convince ourselves we control the journey—but sometimes, life stubbornly steers us back to exactly what we’re trying to avoid. And here, Jonah’s story transcends its religious context. Who hasn’t had their own Nineveh? That decision we postpone. That truth we sidestep. That calling we keep silent. That forgiveness we withhold. The change we intimately know is necessary, yet something within us still resists. This painting seems to capture that exact moment—when escape is still possible, but already beginning to feel like a detour. Yet its brilliant colors prevent any sense of darkness. There is turmoil, yes, but also extraordinary vitality. As if a wrong turn were part of the journey, as if our refusals, wanderings, and even storms might somehow help lead us where we were meant to go all along. Jonah must come to know the sea, fear, the storm, and the depths before he finally accepts his path. Perhaps some destinations demand exactly this from us: that we lose ourselves long enough to understand why they were waiting for us. This painting thus becomes less a story of obedience than a confrontation with oneself. Because we are free to take every side road. Free to resist. Free to set off for the ends of the earth. But some inner voices possess a strange patience. And sometimes, after long voyages to escape them, we discover that the path we refused was perhaps the one that would bring us back to ourselves.