

This woodland scene gathers itself in a hush of bamboo-like trunks, their vertical rhythms forming a living colonnade that both shelters and confines the viewer’s gaze. A dark, reflective stream cuts through the composition like a quiet threshold, absorbing light and returning it as fractured glints—suggesting memory more than mirror. Warm ochres and mossed greens drift across the leaf-littered banks, where the brushwork softens edges into a humid, half-dreamt atmosphere, as if the forest is less a place than a state of listening. The work lingers on the tension between density and openness, inviting us to step inward while reminding us how quickly nature closes behind us.