I was basically working on a stamp series when Bleeding Vermillion Hues emerged—almost unannounced—as the first living pulse of that journey. Its completion startled me into a quiet certainty: this creation refuses to remain merely a painting, a song, or any single vessel of expression. It breathes with layered silences, with emotions too intricate, too feral, to be flattened by language alone. Words, when left solitary, dull its edges; they fail to hold the tremor it carries.
And so, I chose to give Bleeding Vermillion Hues wings.
What began as pigment on canvas now seeks flight—through meandering notes of melody, through the resonance of voice that dares to echo the canvas, through a labyrinth of words that do not explain but invoke. This work is aberrant by nature, ungoverned by conformity, restless in its refusal to be caged within one art form. It longs for migration, for metamorphosis, for the vast and unclaimed expanse of sky.
It is perhaps too early to announce where it will land. For now, all I can say is that I am working inward—sharpening, softening, unlearning—to become a worthy passage for its flight. When the time comes, it will arrive not as a conclusion, but as an unfolding.
Until then, stay tuned. I trust you will shower Bleeding Vermillion Hues with the same love you have given every fragment of my becoming.
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