Down to the Overflow

Descending. Crossing the layers.

The sky first, blue-grey, almost faded. Then the dense navy blue, that of the surface that refuses the light. Below, the turquoise bursts forth, like a secret chamber the sea would keep for itself alone.

And at the centre, the white fissure. The foam that rises, that overflows. The overflow, that moment when depth can no longer contain itself, when it surfaces again.

A vertical dive into waters that keep. Where silence is no longer a weight, but a presence.

Matter, structural plaster, acrylic. Wabi-sabi. To paint the depth. To sculpt the foam.