Oil on linen – If I think of a king at night fall
A cloud’s curtain in a far off corner, 2021, 0, 40 × 60
Before the useful trouble of the rain, 2021, 0, 24 × 24
Between the soft moor and the soft sky, 2021, 0, 40 × 80
Blue curtains of the sky scatter the silver dew, 2021, 0, 30 × 72
Every street lamp that I pass beats like a drum, 2021, 0, 30 × 30
Hidden in the stillness of noon, 2021, 0, 40 × 80
If I think of a king at night fall, 2021, 0, 30 × 30
Like a pink thread loosened from the sky, 2021, 0, 48 × 72
Meanwhile the sun squints, 2021, 0, 60 × 60
Morning is a place for dew, 2021, 0, 48 × 72
Still as the hourglass, 2021, 0, 54 × 60
The other landscape, 2021, 0, 60 × 60
The showers beat on broken blinds, 2021, 0, 30 × 30
The sleepy rythm of countless hours, 2021, 0, 30 × 30
The sun and fog contested the government of day, 2021, 0, 30 × 60
The web of life is woven, 2021, 0, 30 × 60
The wind blows a thousand whispers, 2021, 0, 48 × 72
Time dissolves itself, 2021, 0, 30 × 72
To see the summer sky is poetry though never in a book it lie, 2021, 0, 30 × 30
Where melodious winds have birth, 2021, 0, 60 × 40
Where you must move in measure like a dancer, 2021, 0, 48 × 60
Who must be up to call the world and dress the sleepy day, 2021, 0, 40 × 80