Lila

I painted Lila in May 2026, while I was taking part in an artist residency at Casa R.A.R.O. in Barcelona. During those weeks, I spent a lot of time walking around the city, absorbing its textures. I was deeply captivated by the old houses with their chipped plaster, exposed red bricks, and the sudden, overwhelming cascades of lilac wisteria hanging over weathered walls. That soft violet shade stuck with me; it felt like a gentle breath of air resting on top of the city's old, rough skin.

In Lila, I wanted to bring those impressions onto the canvas. The lower part of the painting carries the weight of the earth: raw textures, warm rust, ochre, and dark tones that remind me of old walls shaped by time. Right above it, separated by a sharp horizon, is a calm expanse of soft lilac.

This line dividing the painting is central to my ongoing exploration of fractures and horizons. But for me, a fracture isn't a wall or a final break; it’s more like the Japanese idea of "ma" (間) . It is a pause, a space of quiet breath between two moments. It’s that still place where we stop, look back at what was broken or worn away, and realize that something gentle is ready to begin again.

Within the Sensitive Horizons series, Lila is a very personal piece. Where other works deal with dramatic contrasts or deep silence, Lila speaks about beauty found in everyday details and the quiet strength of healing.