Oil painting:The Seed of All Fire (11 x 14)
At the center is a dark void — deep brown-black, almost cellular in shape, ringed by a swirling halo of violet and white impasto paint that pulses like an eye or a womb or a collapsing star. Inside the void, gold flame-like strokes twist upward, scattered among flecks of red and tiny blue dots that feel like sparks or seeds or distant galaxies being born.
Around this central form, the canvas erupts. Color fields radiate outward like tectonic plates in motion — electric turquoise to the right, burnt orange and copper at the top, deep yellow and purple to the left, green at the bottom edge. Each field has its own texture, its own personality, separated by dark black veins that act like fault lines or the spaces between worlds.
The brushwork is heavy and physical. You can feel the paint was pushed, dragged, and built up in layers — especially in the white ring around the void, which has real three-dimensional presence. The gold inside catches light differently from every angle.
The overall feeling is of something ancient cracking open. A seed. A cell. A cosmos. The darkness at the center isn't empty — it's dense, full of potential, contained only by that violet ring before everything beyond it explodes into color and chaos and life.
