The Dancing Light
80 × 60 × 4 cm
Acrylic on canvas.
Warm, saturated hues create a glowing atmosphere where light and memory blend into one another. A bed, gently disheveled, sits in soft shadow while an orb—sun or moon—casts light that refracts across the floor and up the pillow. But crucially, this source of light, like the light itself, is absent—it exists only as negative space, a shape left unpainted. This absence becomes an active presence, a silent force at the heart of the composition. The light, rather than being rendered, is felt, like a memory or a breath. It is this restraint—this poetic decision not to fill the canvas completely—that opens the work to a deeper psychological terrain.
This strategy recalls Félix González-Torres’s Untitled (Bed), where the physical emptiness of the two pillows speaks louder than any figure might. Like González-Torres, the work uses absence not as void, but as invocation. The unpainted orb becomes a portal—this negative space contains light as both a literal and metaphorical force. It is the space of the unseen but deeply felt: the way sunlight filters into a room and changes not only the wall but our entire sense of time and thought. The bed here becomes a stage for that transformation—a site where internal and external experience collapse into one.
The work echoes Maurice Merleau-Ponty's assertion that perception is not objective, but always lived and embodied. The viewer is invited to inhabit this space not with their eyes alone, but with memory, emotion, and stillness. The plants that crowd the window, rendered in vibrant and unruly forms, blur the boundary between the cultivated and the wild—between the conscious and the subconscious. Ultimately, this is a painting about the spaces we lie in, physically and emotionally—the moments when light, thought, and memory wash over us, and the world quietly, irrevocably, shifts.
Free shipping anywhere in the world.
80 × 60 × 4 cm
Acrylic on canvas.
Warm, saturated hues create a glowing atmosphere where light and memory blend into one another. A bed, gently disheveled, sits in soft shadow while an orb—sun or moon—casts light that refracts across the floor and up the pillow. But crucially, this source of light, like the light itself, is absent—it exists only as negative space, a shape left unpainted. This absence becomes an active presence, a silent force at the heart of the composition. The light, rather than being rendered, is felt, like a memory or a breath. It is this restraint—this poetic decision not to fill the canvas completely—that opens the work to a deeper psychological terrain.
This strategy recalls Félix González-Torres’s Untitled (Bed), where the physical emptiness of the two pillows speaks louder than any figure might. Like González-Torres, the work uses absence not as void, but as invocation. The unpainted orb becomes a portal—this negative space contains light as both a literal and metaphorical force. It is the space of the unseen but deeply felt: the way sunlight filters into a room and changes not only the wall but our entire sense of time and thought. The bed here becomes a stage for that transformation—a site where internal and external experience collapse into one.
The work echoes Maurice Merleau-Ponty's assertion that perception is not objective, but always lived and embodied. The viewer is invited to inhabit this space not with their eyes alone, but with memory, emotion, and stillness. The plants that crowd the window, rendered in vibrant and unruly forms, blur the boundary between the cultivated and the wild—between the conscious and the subconscious. Ultimately, this is a painting about the spaces we lie in, physically and emotionally—the moments when light, thought, and memory wash over us, and the world quietly, irrevocably, shifts.
Free shipping anywhere in the world.
80 × 60 × 4 cm
Acrylic on canvas.
Warm, saturated hues create a glowing atmosphere where light and memory blend into one another. A bed, gently disheveled, sits in soft shadow while an orb—sun or moon—casts light that refracts across the floor and up the pillow. But crucially, this source of light, like the light itself, is absent—it exists only as negative space, a shape left unpainted. This absence becomes an active presence, a silent force at the heart of the composition. The light, rather than being rendered, is felt, like a memory or a breath. It is this restraint—this poetic decision not to fill the canvas completely—that opens the work to a deeper psychological terrain.
This strategy recalls Félix González-Torres’s Untitled (Bed), where the physical emptiness of the two pillows speaks louder than any figure might. Like González-Torres, the work uses absence not as void, but as invocation. The unpainted orb becomes a portal—this negative space contains light as both a literal and metaphorical force. It is the space of the unseen but deeply felt: the way sunlight filters into a room and changes not only the wall but our entire sense of time and thought. The bed here becomes a stage for that transformation—a site where internal and external experience collapse into one.
The work echoes Maurice Merleau-Ponty's assertion that perception is not objective, but always lived and embodied. The viewer is invited to inhabit this space not with their eyes alone, but with memory, emotion, and stillness. The plants that crowd the window, rendered in vibrant and unruly forms, blur the boundary between the cultivated and the wild—between the conscious and the subconscious. Ultimately, this is a painting about the spaces we lie in, physically and emotionally—the moments when light, thought, and memory wash over us, and the world quietly, irrevocably, shifts.
Free shipping anywhere in the world.