In Memory of Forgotten Light, a fragmented world pulses with the remnants of something once radiant. Swaths of crimson blaze across the canvas like fleeting embers, colliding with cool expanses of cerulean and ghostly white. The texture is raw, scraped and layered, suggesting time-worn walls and echoing voices left behind. Each stroke feels like a trace of memory—some vivid, others eroded—shifting between clarity and blur.
This abstract landscape is less about what is seen and more about what lingers. It holds the emotional residue of illumination—of beauty remembered rather than witnessed, of warmth slipping through time’s fractured lens. A visceral homage to light that once was, and the aching poetry of its absence.