



Anchored by a violet-trunked tree that rises like a living monument, the composition gathers a ring of figures whose ochres, reds, and whites pulse with communal urgency. The thick, grainy surface compresses space, turning ground and sky into tactile fields where movement feels remembered rather than observedβan insistence of ritual over reportage. Around this central axis, bodies tumble, lean, and circle, suggesting celebration and struggle at once, as if the tree quietly absorbs the villageβs stories and returns them as sheltering presence.







