Original artwork description:

I see before me not a body, but a flash of light fused into a human form.
Each brushstroke is like breath on the canvas: warm, gusty, living its own life. Red reflections fall on the skin, as if an inner warmth is bursting forth, seeking an outlet, illuminating the muscles from within. Somewhere between these fiery spots, cold flashes of blue appear—as if a shadow is trying to recapture the human force, but is unable to do so.

The figure stands in semi-darkness, and this darkness is not frightening: it is necessary for the light to become brighter.
It seems to emerge from the background—from the chaos of brushstrokes, from the blurred haze, from the brushstrokes left by intuition. There is no concrete space behind, only movement, momentum, depth.

I don't strive to show the face clearly—emotion is more expressive when it is dissolved. I paint not a person, but a state: tension, quiet strength, the fragility of the moment.
The body is like a sculpture, but alive; like fire, but held in the hand.

When you look at this figure, you hear not words, but rhythm:
the rhythm of brushstrokes, the rhythm of light, the rhythm of inner heat.
And it seems as if the canvas is unfinished—not because something is missing, but because the energy itself continues beyond its boundaries.

Materials used:

oil, cardboard

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