Field Notes from the Cultural Apothecary
In a quiet forest, where tree trunk rise like pillars of stillness, a delicate yellow sofa rests among wild roses. Upon it, a young deer has fallen asleep - unguarded, serene, as if civilization itself had learned to dream.
I’m working on a new series, exploring the fragile space where animals, emotion, and human presence meet. There’s so much I want to paint - I can hardly keep up with the ideas rushing in.
Each canvas feels like a small truce between worlds.
At the edge of a sunlit field, a wooden table stands beneath a tall tree, yellow flowers scattered like laughter through the grass. From its branches hangs a chandelier with soft candles, swaying gently in the breeze. On the table - a vase of blossoms, a plate with a single mouse.
Across from it sits a fox, attentive, composed, as if waiting for grace to begin. The picnic of civilization has been reimagined; the guest of honour has changed.
Déjeuner sur l’Herbe turns the familiar into reverie - a quiet feast between wildness and ritual, where nature’s wit replaces human presence, and the air itself seems to smile.
A quick, colourful series drawn between brushstrokes of more serious work - four little moments of movement, breath, and play. Sometimes a sketch is just a pause, a way to stretch the hand and the mind at once.
Art, like yoga, reminds us to stay flexible - in line, in thought, in spirit.
From the Brooklyn waterfront, the skyline of New York rises - steel, glass, and rhythm. Yet nature has begun its gentle return: green vines climb façades, gardens spill from rooftops, and the city breathes in patches of leaf and light.
In the foreground, among planters, a young woman bends to her work, tending to what endures and grows. Urban Gardening imagines a quiet transformation - where concrete yields to chlorophyll, and the pulse of the metropolis softens into something alive, rooted, and humane.