CYRIUS

Mixed media, acrylic, epoxy resin, glitter on canvas Some stars have names. This one carries a world. In *Cyrius*, space unfolds like a cosmic narrative in three acts. At the top, a golden star radiates from its heart of gold leaf, surrounded by white and purple veils that swirl around it like a crown of gas—an ancient light, sovereign and silent. At the bottom right, a living planet answers its call. Turquoise, green, marbled with white and deep blue, it resembles Earth but not quite. Too luminous, too fluid. A dreamlike Earth, perhaps. A possible Earth. Its oceans are still in motion; its continents not yet set in stone. It is in the process of becoming. Between them, a nebula of violet, white, and ochre vapors connects the star to the planet like an invisible cord—suspended interstellar matter, the dust of creation. A comet crosses this link, a bright point of light, a messenger between two worlds. To the left, outside the frame, a small gray-green moon floats at the edge of the composition—a discreet satellite, a forgotten witness to a story greater than itself. *Cyrius* is a work of genesis. It depicts the moment when a star recognizes a world that belongs to it, and when that world slowly awakens to itself.