There is something about Universe in Bloom that makes my gaze keep moving. I follow a silver trace, pause in the darkness, and then a small touch of violet draws me somewhere else.

The title holds a feeling I find difficult to put into words: the possibility that something can open even where everything seems still. That a space we first perceive as empty might contain more than we can see.

Against the black, violet and silver seem to gather, drift apart, and find each other again. Some marks feel close enough to touch. Others seem impossibly far away. I like that uncertainty of scale — the way a small detail can suddenly feel like an entire world.

Universe in Bloom gives that feeling a name without explaining it completely.

Perhaps you see something coming into existence. Perhaps something breaking apart, releasing what it can no longer hold. Or perhaps your eyes find a place that feels familiar, even though you have never been there.

I want to leave that discovery to you.

There are details that catch your attention immediately, and others you may only notice after living with the painting for a while. A line you had overlooked. A trace of light. A different relationship between two shapes. I like the thought of the work becoming familiar without ever revealing everything.

Perhaps that is what keeps drawing me back to it.

The feeling that, somewhere within it, something is still opening.