Spring Autopsy, or the Realm of Willows

In this painting, colors rise like the branches of a weeping willow, at times weighed down by gravity, at times lifted by the promise of renewal. Deep, solemn violet evokes the mystery of death—not as an end, but as a passage toward resurrection. Bright, tender green whispers the songs of spring, the surge of a youth reborn. Between them, a golden glow unfolds like an eternal sap: it is the secret knowledge that nourishes life, the light binding what seemed divided. The whole expands into an imaginary city, where willows reaching skyward become a silent temple. The weeping tree transforms into the tree of life, rooting fragility within timeless strength. Nothing truly ends: everything transforms, everything is reborn. And what if every ending were but the reverse of a beginning, the hidden doorway to an unseen immortality?