Original artwork description:

I painted these Cannes in the evening — at that hour when the city stops being a postcard and becomes alive, a little tired, but warm. The sun has already slipped behind the rooftops, and light no longer dictates form; it only suggests it. That’s why I let the paint speak freely, almost by touch.

The buildings here do not stand still — they sway. I felt the walls absorbing the heat of the day and giving it back in blues and violets. The windows are not architecture but glances: some brief, some dark, some still holding the last reflection of daylight. I kept them intentionally unclear — in the evening, everything is seen vaguely, as if through memory.

There are people on the street. I don’t know who they are, and I don’t want to. They are movement, rhythm, footsteps. The two figures in the center are not characters but a sense of closeness, a conversation without words. Their colors are warmer, because a human presence is always warmer than stone.

The car on the left is like an old acquaintance. It isn’t there for detail, but for pause. It slows the eye and lets you feel that the city is not in a hurry, that evening is permission to exhale.

I painted thickly, sometimes roughly, because evening is never smooth. It’s made of mixed sounds, smells, reflections, accidental moments. Red, blue, and yellow collide the same way impressions collide when you walk down a narrow street and don’t yet know what you’ll remember — the light in a shop window or someone’s passing shadow.

“Evening Cannes” is not a place. It’s a state of being that I know well and always return to. When the day has already been lived, and the night has not yet begun, and the city, for a brief moment, becomes honest.

Materials used:

Oil paints.

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