Flame shapes in saffron, tangerine, and red leap up through a sky of cobalt and violet, flickering like figures caught mid-step. Soft, smoky blots of rust drift through the upper air like embers carried on the wind. Below, quick black brushstrokes sweep and bend in the same direction, part scorched grass and part dancers’ limbs, all moving to one rhythm. Bursts of green, magenta, and teal break through the lower left, and warm ochre and clay pool at the base like ground still holding the heat. The brushwork is fast and loose, more gesture than outline. This is fire as celebration, a blaze that feels less like destruction and more like a dance that can’t be stopped.
