Membrane

An aged face dominates the canvas: the skin, painted with almost photorealistic precision, reveals every wrinkle, every texture, every mark left by time. Only the eyes catch the light, while the rest of the face is shrouded in an earthy dullness. From half of the face emerges a dense, tangled white botanical embroidery that covers part of the skin, like a second skin, an organic film that grows, spreads, and encroaches upon the painted flesh. The thread no longer merely highlights or adorns: it invades, merging with the face until it becomes inseparable from it. Membrane thus explores this uncertain boundary between the intimate and the external, between what protects and what covers, between aging flesh and what becomes grafted onto it, a vegetal trace of memory, of transmission, or perhaps of that which, little by little, replaces the body.