Quintessence (630)

This canvas unfolds like a land in flux, traversed by crimson veins and flashes of orange that seem to erupt from an inner magma. Greens intermingle with browns, evoking both the sap of a forest and molten rock, whilst scarlet spheres burst at the surface like pulses of life. The movement is telluric, almost organic: one could almost see the earth breathing, cracking open, releasing an underground energy too long constrained. The textures recall bark, minerals, living tissues—as if the painting constantly oscillates between a terrestrial landscape and an interior cartography. The white at the centre acts as a luminous fissure, a breath that splits the material to reveal its vibrant heart. Everything becomes a passage, a threshold: from the chaos of colour emerges a form of balance—precarious, yet essential. Thus, when faced with this telluric seething, one unescapable question arises: what does the moment when everything seems to break within us reveal, if not the secret promise of a rebirth?