When Memory Is Full

A tree rendered not as it appears, but as it's remembered, that is, a canopy dissolved into magenta, violet, and yellow, applied thick and unmediated, the way a memory intensifies and blurs at once. Beneath the density of bloom, the trunk holds its ground in pale, linear strokes, keeping the piece tethered even as the color threatens to overwhelm it.

The title speaks to that saturation point when a memory has been returned to so many times it starts to shift, gain color it never had, lose precision it once held. This piece leans into that distortion rather than resisting it: an impression built up in layers of impasto until the original moment is beside the point, and what's left is the feeling of it.