Spring of Life

When I started painting Spring of Life, I wasn’t just thinking about a landscape—I was feeling it. I wanted to capture that moment when the earth wakes up, when the air is filled with warmth, and when nature hums with the quiet energy of renewal. It’s the kind of moment that makes you stop, breathe deeply, and feel alive.

I didn’t approach this painting with rigid plans or careful sketches. Instead, I let my hands guide me. I used fabric, Q-tips, my fingers, and scraping techniques—anything that allowed me to stay connected with the canvas in a raw, organic way. I needed to feel the movement of the paint, to push and pull the colors as if they were part of a living, breathing world.

The water in the foreground was one of the most intuitive parts to create. I wanted it to feel fluid, reflective, almost as if it were carrying the colors of the sky within it. The way the blues and greens melt together mirrors the way seasons shift—soft, gradual, yet inevitable.

The trees, glowing with warm oranges and fiery reds, stand as a reminder of how life isn’t just about quiet renewal—it’s also about passion, energy, and transformation. I scraped away layers of paint to reveal textures beneath, creating depth, as if the landscape itself had a memory, a history.

As I painted, I thought about the feeling of standing outside at dawn, when the world is still and expectant. I wanted to evoke that quiet magic, that sense of possibility. The tiny flecks of yellow in the sky are stars lingering before fading into the new day—because even in the brightest moments, traces of the past remain.

 It’s about movement, growth, and the unstoppable force of life itself. It’s about letting go, allowing color and texture to take control, and trusting that something beautiful will emerge.

Can you feel the energy within it?