Oil on wood. A tangle of turquoise and russet trunks rises like a small forest of characters, each tree mid-conversation in a language of looping branches and dappled light. It’s a place where time walks slowly, birds gossip in the canopy, and the air itself feels stitched together with color and memory.
Oil on wood. A tangle of turquoise and russet trunks rises like a small forest of characters, each tree mid-conversation in a language of looping branches and dappled light. It’s a place where time walks slowly, birds gossip in the canopy, and the air itself feels stitched together with color and memory.