This piece was not painted gently it was built, pressed, scraped and reshaped like the forest itself after heavy rain.
Thick layers of modelling paste and plaster were pushed across the surface until they began to feel like earth uneven, unpredictable, alive. The greens are not decorative; they are deep, saturated, almost consuming. They speak of growth that refuses to be controlled, of nature spreading, reclaiming, breathing.
Rain runs through this work. You can feel it in the drips, in the softened edges, in the way colours bleed into one another. Nothing sits perfectly still. Everything merges. Everything transforms.
The gold breaks through like light fighting its way through a dense canopy not delicate, but powerful. It doesn’t sit on top of the painting; it forces its way forward, like hope in heavy weather.
This piece is about surrender. About allowing pressure, weight and emotion to mould separate fragments into one unified force. It holds tension and release at the same time like standing in a forest mid-storm, soaked, grounded, and completely aware that something is shifting.
It is not controlled beauty.
It is nature reshaping itself and surviving.