Women And The Birds

A seated figure, doubled as if remembered and re-lived, emerges from a wash of heated reds and saffron yellows, where the atmosphere feels less like a room than an emotional climate. Her cupped hands cradle a small bird—an intimate emblem of tenderness and precarious freedom—while the surrounding geometry and floating signs (an eye, triangles, drifting vessels) suggest a private cosmology of watching, weighing, and longing. The composition stages a quiet negotiation between containment and release: soft human contours anchored on a red block of presence, set against luminous negative space that reads like inner light. In this tension, the work becomes a meditation on care as both shelter and surrender, where what is held most gently is also what might depart.