The Garden Was Already Speaking, it feels as though it wasn't invented for the painting so much as discovered within it.
There's something about this work that suggests life was already unfolding before we arrived to witness it. The marks feel less like gestures imposed on the canvas and more like traces of a conversation already in progress. The pinks become blossoms, the yellows become light filtering through leaves, and the black marks read almost like birdsong or seeds carried on the wind. The title honors that quiet sense of abundance without explaining it away.
The Garden Was Already Speaking
An invitation to notice the quiet conversations of light, color, and memory that exist long before we learn to name them.