Autumn Bouquet

I took these flowers from the market — in an armful, without choosing — and placed them in the first thing that came to hand. Dahlias, cosmos, asters, petunia — they didn't match each other by any rules of floristry. But it was precisely in this discord that something genuine was born.

I wanted to convey the sensation of moist touch — when you take a freshly cut stem and feel how the sap chills your fingers. Therefore I worked quickly, on wet paper, allowing the pigment to find its own course. The dark background behind the bouquet is not a wall, but a void in space from which the flowers seem to emerge forward. I deliberately left the upper right corner unpainted: I needed air, a gap through which light enters the composition.

The old Dutch masters painted floral still lifes as reminders of transience — vanitas, the fading of beauty. I thought about this when choosing my palette: the deep purple of the dahlias already carries a foreboding of autumn, while the milk-white ranunculus in the lower left is summer's last breath. Watercolor is irreplaceable here, because it cannot be fully controlled. Bleeds and flows are not accidents, but water's collaboration. I merely set the direction.

Linger. The bouquet will last another day or two — but this moment of its fullness is already captured.