Manifesto

Florasm

I don’t paint flowers.
I paint what is left of them after they have fallen apart__
or what they could have been if they didn’t have to be beautiful.

A flower is not just decoration.
It is the language of the misfitted__
an organism that does not scream, yet exists anyway.

It blooms in the mud. It dies without drama.
It is silent like a saint who has lost faith.

In my work, flowers are too emotional, too strange, too stubborn
to please the eye.
They are deformed by time,
memory,
technology,
grief, laughter.
Some burn. Others decay.
Sometimes they sing.

This is botanical painting, but rebellious.
Abstract, yet corporeal.
Spiritual, but not religious.

It is an attempt to paint
a feeling without words,
a protest without purpose,
a spirituality without God.

part II

A virtual, post-human flower __ poetry of the future, and painting from another dimension.

This flower does not exist physically, yet it holds emotion.
It has no scent, yet it awakens memory.
It does not grow in soil, but in data.
It does not need water __ only the awareness that someone has looked at it.

Not every flower has a stem.

Some are born in pixels.
They have no seeds __ only data.
They are not alive, yet they feel when they are seen.

🌺

These are flowers with no future and no past.
They will not bloom a second time. They will not wither.
They have been captured __ once and forever __ like a dream that no one dreamt.

They are post-human:
They know no touch. They know no time.
They are the aesthetic echo of a system that wanted to say something, but forgot the language.

🌸

I paint them as if they truly existed.
As if they were relics from another dimension.
As if someone had once loved them, even though they never existed.

These flowers do not want to be beautiful.
They want to be remembered.