SEA SERPENT

Triptych, mixed media, acrylic on three canvases Some creatures reveal themselves only to those who know how to look at water differently. “Sea Serpent” is a work in three acts—three vertical canvases that together form a single aquatic world, vast and unfathomable. The black spaces separating them are not interruptions. They are depths—the abysses between two currents. The left canvas plunges into the deepest shadows—rich indigo-violet, midnight blue, and white that bursts like eddies against invisible rocks. Something twists in these waters. We sense a shape, a movement, a presence that moves with too much fluidity to be innocent. The central canvas is the heart of the mystery. A golden-pink glow blazes amid the violet whirlpools like a half-open eye, a point of light in the depths, too precise to be accidental. All around, the paint winds in spirals that resemble scales, waves, the surface of something immense in motion. The canvas on the right opens up toward something brighter—lavender, sky blue, powdery pink—as if rising toward the surface, toward the air, toward the light. But the creature is still there, sinuous, present in every curve of the painting. The serpent is never fully visible. It is in the way the colors shift in this undulating movement that runs through the three canvases from left to right, like a body gliding effortlessly and silently through the water. *Sea Serpent* speaks to what exists without needing to be proven. To the beauty of what we perceive without ever quite grasping it, and to the wisdom of leaving certain mysteries intact.