Color of My Soul

This painting unfolds through a surreal vocabulary that charts childhood, homeland, and the origins we carry with us long after we’ve left them. The village is reimagined as a maternal architecture; at its center, a glowing, womb-like form asserts itself as the locus of beginnings. Its radiance makes the proposition unmistakable: home is the ground from which one’s life takes shape. In those early days, its protection and nourishment create a bond with the land that settles deep within us, an invisible umbilical cord that persists as memory’s most enduring imprint.

At the heart of the composition, a lone man stands in confrontation with a long-buried memory. The cord joining him to the incandescent organ of origin renders visible the exchange between past and present, between the child and the adult. In approaching this luminous source, he locates the architecture of his own beginnings. It marks an interior recognition, a moment when inheritance and self-awareness briefly align.

The surrounding houses exhibit a subtle vigilance, operating like watchful eyes. They witness rather than intervene, registering the perennial passage from dependency into individuality. Their presence underscores the painting’s central argument: maturation is not achieved by cutting oneself loose from the past, but by carrying its nourishment forward. The longing for one’s point of origin becomes, ultimately, the enduring color of the soul.