Surrounded by Nature, Even on Paper
Spring is finally here. Flowers are blooming, birds are singing — but when you live in a big city, you’re still mostly surrounded by concrete.
It’s always nice to plan for getaways. To walk barefoot in the grass, to hike through a forest, to breathe air that doesn’t taste like exhaust. But for all the other moments — the everyday life where time is always missing, between work, family, social life, and the million other things on the list — I need some kind of connection to nature, even a small one.
I buy fresh flowers at the market every week. A few stems on the kitchen table change a room — the colors, the scent, the reminder that something is alive and growing in your home. When I open my windows and hear only traffic and sirens, I put on a playlist of birdsong and forest sounds. It works more than you’d think.
And then there’s art. I can look at a painting of a bouquet and almost smell the flowers. A patch of green on a wall and my brain relaxes, just for a few minutes. A landscape with trees and sky, and suddenly there’s space to breathe in a room that has none.
That’s what I’m chasing when I paint. Nature is hopeful and resilient. It offers us every color, every texture, every pattern. Through my work, I try to celebrate it — aware that I’m not inventing anything. I’m a witness to its beauty, and my interpretation through brushes and pigment is an attempt to let it in. To bring the outside into a life where grey and hard surfaces are everywhere.
The landscapes prints came from exactly this feeling. The pine trees, the wide beaches, the Atlantic light — painted from memory, in a New York apartment, because I needed to be there even when I couldn’t be.
An art print won’t replace a walk among the trees. But it can bring softness to a wall, and space to a room, and a small reminder that the world outside the window is still beautiful.

