A rectangular surface, taut, presented frontally.
No identifiable figures, no patterns — just a stratified expanse, organized into wide horizontal bands that unfold like successive layers.

In the upper part, a dense green graduates towards an almost yellow clarity, like light held at the edge. This more breathable zone opens up the space without entirely freeing it. It slowly slides towards a darker register, where the tones thicken, turn black, then warm up into a deep red, incandescent but contained. The base, saturated with a brighter red, seems to radiate from within, like an ember under tension.

The composition relies on strict horizontality. No vertical axis breaks this stability. The gaze circulates laterally, captivated by these strata that respond to each other without ever merging. Each band acts as a threshold, a slow transition between distinct chromatic states.

The material is present, insistent. The surface retains the memory of the gesture: scraping marks, discreet furrows, irregularities that catch the light. The paint is not smooth; it resists, accumulates, retains. One can discern a process of successive layers, perhaps drawn, stretched, reworked until this fragile balance between fusion and separation is achieved.

The light does not come from an identifiable external source. It seems to emanate from the colors themselves, particularly from the lower red which acts as a focal point. The contrast with the darker areas in the center creates tension, a tipping point where the eye hesitates, suspended.

Nothing is narrative, but everything suggests a journey.
From cold to warm.
From diffuse to dense.
From withdrawal to incandescence.

The whole holds together in a form of controlled restraint. No abrupt breaks, only glides, thresholds, slow accumulations. As if the surface had recorded an invisible inner movement, and was here revealing its trace.

Facing it, the gaze finds neither an anchor point nor an escape. It settles. It adjusts to the rhythm of the layers. And little by little, in this silent horizontality, something persists — a contained warmth, a memory of fire that does not fade.