I was in the middle of a phone call, walking barefoot outside, feeling the earth beneath my feet.
Then I saw them—flames, bright and fierce, crawling over the top of a nearby hill. I froze for a moment and hung up.In the next six minutes, I was in the car, driving away, my heart racing in sync with the rhythm of the fire.
The flames were enormous, swallowing the hill whole, and as I watched, it felt like the end of something—apocalyptic, as if nature itself was crying out.It was painful to witness. The vibrant greenery that stood tall just moments before was gone in an instant. Trees, their leaves dancing in the wind, now reduced to shadows of their former selves.
Any creatures that called this place home, they didn’t ask for this. They didn’t want to die. But the fire showed no mercy.After it was over, I gathered ashes from the scorched land. It felt like gathering memories of the local nature that was once there, the remains of lives lived and lost. I wanted to honor them, to remember that they had once been alive, and vibrant.
So, I mixed those ashes into my paint, letting them become part of something new. I wanted to show that from destruction, from loss, there’s always the seed of something more. Life will rise again, from the ashes, as it always does. In my art, I can see it—new life taking shape, emerging from what was.
Each stroke of the brush carries the weight of that event, but also the hope of regeneration. Because that’s what the earth does. She rebuilds, she heals. And from the ashes, she always creates something beautiful once more.
Specks of Love 7, 60 x 80 cm, wood ashes, sand from Portugal, clay, water from levadas, acrylic on canvas, 2024
