The forest does not choose. It welcomes everything—the cool blue descending from the treetops, the fiery red setting the undergrowth ablaze. Two contrasting lights, two temperatures that clash without destroying one another.
Between these two lights lies a transitional space—neither day nor night, neither inside nor outside. A threshold. Where the tall blue-green trunks rise toward an almost mineral sky, while below, flashes of purple and crimson punctuate the shadows like forgotten embers.
There is something breath-like in this painting. A depth that calls out. A path that opens up without ever fully revealing itself—as if the forest still held a secret, just behind the curtain of trees.
