A major turning point came in 2022–2023, when abstraction took full command of my expression. Darker tones emerged, with complex chromatic research and experiments in blue pigments, applied through mixed techniques on larger formats. I began to view painting as a chromatic form that creates a space-time of its own. Color still fascinated me—but now for its birefringence. This shift began with a study of Yves Klein’s deep blue pigments—the matte, powdery texture of his works, charged with spiritual symbolism and cosmic depth. That ultramarine blue, Klein’s IKB, suddenly pulled me back to a forgotten memory of my grandmother painting her home in blue. IKB became more than a hypnotic pigment—it became a portal, opening up to the lost blues of my childhood. This technical research gradually crystallized into a body of work I called the Blue Series.

          The year 2023 was then marked by another series: “The Black Night of the Soul.” An avalanche of dark, previously unexplored colors overwhelmed my canvas and led me into unvisited corners of my own soul. Painting became an introspective journey. This absence of light and color, at first glance, only intensified the subtle presence of light. In this unsettling darkness, the eye adjusts, the mind quiets, and shadows take on depth. There is no longer a struggle, no debate—it becomes a wandering without clear boundaries.

          A second transformative moment in my artistic path occurred during my journey to the Holy Land in October 2023. It was the encounter with a country steeped in history and war, under a deceivingly bright sun and a sky troubled with anxiety. Caught in the whirlwind of events that month, I found myself isolated, with painting as my only means of escape. From that solitude emerged a series of paintings marked by dusty luminosity, where storms and winds converge. Following the darkness of The Black Night of the Soul, the “Holy Land” series brought a chromatic relief—a quiet gentleness despite the palpable tension in the air.

As a natural continuation of my technical explorations, Organic Bloom and Lyrical Landscapes complement one another in the liberation of the pictorial gesture and in the use of sanded textures. A new pictorial breath — both gentle and free — imbues us with poetry. The kinship with Japanese haikus, from which I draw much of my inspiration, guides me toward an expression that is both laconic and profound.

Let me be born

a woman again

in the world to come

And I will love the flowers

And I will love the moon

 — Yamakawa Tomiko

Like a word that rings true, in my latest series I seek out traces and colors that are “self-sufficient,” free of visual overload, with ample space left for air and silence on the canvas.