The Quiet Wilderness
This collection brings together a group of quiet animal portraits—each painted with a gaze toward what lies beneath the surface. Some look confused, some resigned, some playful, some melancholic. But all of them—foxes, frogs, cows, squirrels and more—hold a hint of a story, a mood, a question left unanswered. Here, the wilderness is not loud. It is still, thoughtful, sometimes funny, always tender.
Some of these creatures were born purely from imagination. Others were inspired by real photographs—reimagined through my brush, with subtle shifts in tone and feeling. Each one carries a voice of its own.
These are not just illustrations. They are reflections. Of moods, of thoughts, perhaps of you.
She has woven webs for years not to catch, but to bring order to disorder.
And now, she sits beside her threads, a cup of tea in hand,
contemplating something beyond the flight and the fall.
Perhaps a connection more intricate than silk.
Perhaps a silence that even the leaves dare not break.
The rain doesn’t trouble me.
What lingers is the question—
Should I remain rooted,
or let myself fall
into whatever comes next?
It’s warm, and the grass still tastes the same .
Nothing new, nothing strange.
But as long as I live, I keep smiling
perhaps, one day, the human heart might soften
I lie hidden beneath the flowers—
not to hunt,
not to deceive.
Sometimes, just being
isn’t enough
when your name is judged
before your steps are taken.
There are moments when even a fox forgets its sharpness,
drawn not to prey, but to a flicker of grace.
To long for what is delicate,
to reach for beauty that was never meant to be yours,
isn’t that its own kind of hunger?
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