For her
The scarf
Golden yellow at its heart — drag, zoom, then lock. Your composition is saved and sent with your enquiry.
Café Bernarda
A salon where painting leaves the wall.
Three afternoons
A Bright Afternoon
The Path
Where light finds its way home.
When I paint, I am looking for the balance of colour that holds what I feel — a vibration, an energy that finds its place on the canvas. In The Path, that energy becomes movement: small white forms winding across fields of red, yellow, green and blue, like a procession leaving the wall.
Each cluster is drawn by hand — outlined in black, touched with blue, never quite the same. The colour blocks hold the ground; the path crosses them, restless and alive, until the whole surface begins to breathe.
This is where the salon begins.
From wall to silk
Choose your fragment from The Path — move, zoom, lock, and it travels with your enquiry to the print house.
For him
The tie
One abstract passage — no pattern, no repeat.
Vermilion and deep blue, quiet at the collar — compose the blade as you will wear it, then lock for print.
A Golden Hour
The Domes
Where gold meets authority.
Some afternoons carry ceremony — gold catching the light, domes rising like thoughts, the surface jewelled with circles and stars. The Domes holds that hour: not illustration, but atmosphere. Red and blue grounds, gold accents, forms that suggest palace and prayer without naming either.
Every arch and window is placed with intention. The painting glitters without shouting — a vibration held in regal colour, ready to cross from wall to silk.
From wall to silk
Choose your fragment from The Domes — move, zoom, lock, and it travels with your enquiry to the print house.
For her
The scarf
Gold and vermilion from the upper register — ideal at the neck, where the light moves with you.
For him
The tie
One abstract passage — no pattern, no repeat.
Deep blue and gold, restrained — the same ceremony, falling quiet from the collar.
The Hill at Noon
Every Window
Where legacy looks out anew.
At noon the hill is never still — every window open, every shape conversing with its neighbour. Every Window is that fullness: orange, blue, red and yellow pressed together in a rhythm that refuses emptiness.
Step close and the canvas becomes a city of marks. Step back and it hums — the same energy I feel when colour finds its equilibrium, multiplied across the whole surface.
From wall to silk
Choose your fragment from Every Window — move, zoom, lock, and it travels with your enquiry to the print house.
For her
The scarf
A passage from the crowded centre — colour in motion, perfect for silk that folds and reveals.
For him
The tie
One abstract passage — no pattern, no repeat.
Blue and ochre from the crowded hill — one vertical passage, confident and singular.
Reserve
Take a piece with you
Each piece is made in small numbers. The painting is singular. The silk, limited.
A Bright Afternoon
A Golden Hour
The Hill at Noon
Into the street
Into the street
She wears the painting at her neck.
He wears it, quiet, at his collar.
The salon follows you out.