In Le jardin et le soleil, the garden becomes a field of vitality rather than a fixed place. A radiant sun hovers above an unruly expanse of stems, blossoms, and gestures, saturating the surface with warmth and chromatic intensity. The pink atmosphere is less sky than sensation—heat, light, and emotional weather.

Plants rise like figures. Some stand upright and declarative; others bend, drip, dissolve. The garden is not botanically specific—it is remembered, felt, and reimagined. Layers of translucent washes meet assertive linear marks, allowing drawing and painting to coexist in a state of improvisation.

The sun, rendered almost archetypically, radiates outward in confident strokes. It acts as both literal source of growth and symbolic center—an emblem of energy, persistence, and renewal. Beneath it, the garden becomes a chorus of individual voices, each stem and bloom holding its own character within a shared field.

As with much of my work, the piece navigates the space between representation and abstraction. It is less about depicting a particular garden and more about inhabiting the experience of one—the immersion of color, the press of heat, the quiet astonishment of things reaching upward.