2025

Mixed Media 

They say that in the moment when Winter grows tired of holding the world in her cold palm, the Earth whispers softly:

“Wake me.”

And then God smiles

— and places the brush into a Woman’s hand.

Because only a Woman knows how tenderness is born.

How life awakens.

How warmth appears out of pure emptiness.

She dipped her brush into thick, luscious strokes, as if gathering raw energy straight from the heart of the Universe.

Each textured stroke was a pulse.

Each transparent layer of resin — a breath.

A shimmering womb-water where something living begins to take shape.

Her hand moved gently yet knowingly —

the graceful certainty of one who creates.

And beneath her touch bloomed petals still warm, like newborn children.

Pink, like the blush of a little girl seeing sunlight for the first time.

Deep red, like the first whispered “yes” of love.

Amber, like a light that rises not from outside, but from the inner chambers of the soul.

The blue beneath gleamed like the primal waters of the feminine world, where new life learns how to exist.

Petals trembled,

spiraled,

unfolded —

each one a tiny portal of light opening into a new season of the heart.

Spring did not arrive.

It was born.

Right here.

Right now.

In every sculpted stroke, in every glimmer of resin, in every movement infused with the ancient feminine mystery — the one that knows how to turn nothing into a miracle.

And when the final petal found its place, the world took its first breath.

Warm.

Alive.

Womanly.

And God whispered:

“Yes.

This is how Spring is created.

This is how Beauty is born.

This is how Love comes into the world.”

And the painting remained — a portal,

a doorway back to the place where every woman remembers:

she is Spring.