Three small oil paintings emerged recently from our studio, Dos Venados, from this renewed practice—each one a meditation on color, composition, and presence.
The first, Riñon Tomato, Vase & Rose, bursts with energy. A thick yellow rose blossoms from a small blue vase, flanked by two crimson riñon tomatoes—plump and wrinkled like elder hearts. The brushwork swirls with vitality, capturing the tension between delicacy and ripeness. The glass reflects a world within a world.
The second, Mamey and Rose, is quieter, more intimate. A rose, deep pink and velvety, rests beside an open mamey fruit. The earthen pod is shaped like an offering bowl, its curve embracing shadow and light. The rose leans in, almost whispering—a conversation between softness and sustenance.
The third, Tilapia with Lemons, is a nod to classical still life in the tradition of fishmongers and feasts. The silvery tilapia, slick and glistening, lies across a dark plate, accompanied by two whole lemons and one sliced open, its pulp like a sunburst. The turquoise background shimmers with broken strokes, suggesting both water and tablecloth, abstraction and realism.
Each painting, though small in scale, affirms something enduring: the joy of close observation, the dance of brush against canvas, the timeless appeal of the ordinary made luminous. Still lifes remind me that mastery isn’t always about grandeur—it’s about presence. And paint still has the power to stop time.
Here are a few other previous posts about Still Life painting processes: Still Life
