Aurore incarnée

A sky of powdered pink, crackled, carrying the traces of a time that inscribes itself. This is not a tender pink, it is an inhabited pink, almost incarnate, that keeps within it the memory of mornings and evenings intermingled. The matter is fine and alive, like the skin of a very old Mediterranean wall the sun would have loved for a long time.

At the horizon, gold overflows. Generous, it mingles with coppered shadows, with passages of ancient blue. It is a dense band of light, almost a sacred frontier between sky and earth. Gold leaf surfaces in glints, never smooth, always vibrating.

Below, a deep red, almost sacred. Furrowed with gold, it carries within it the retained warmth of the day. Each golden glint is like an ember the earth did not want to extinguish.

Here, the matter is memory. Each fissure is a path. Each glint of gold, a light that time has let pass.

Matter, structural plaster, acrylic, crackles, gold leaf. Wabi-sabi. Where the red fades, the gold persists.