Bernardohay’s *Motif Of Capri* captures the island’s vibrant essence with a whirl of colors and textures that feel almost alive. Sun-drenched cliffs tumble into turquoise waters, while brushstrokes mimic the restless energy of waves crashing against rocky shores. What begins as a familiar Mediterranean scene unravels into something stranger—flecks of gold hidden in the foliage, a lone figure half-submerged in shadow near the shoreline, as if the painting holds secrets just beneath its luminous surface. The composition teeters between serenity and motion, where every stroke feels deliberate yet spontaneous, like the artist chased the fleeting light of a Capri afternoon.
There’s an unspoken tension here, as though the landscape itself is breathing. Jagged rocks jut from the canvas with an almost tactile roughness, contrasting the softness of distant sailboats dissolving into haze. Bernardohay doesn’t just depict Capri; he dissects its contradictions—the way tourists flock to its glamour while wild, untamed corners remain untouched. A cluster of lemon trees near the foreground spills over with unnatural greens, their leaves almost vibrating against the cerulean sky. It’s less a postcard and more a fever dream of place, where reality blurs into something richer and slightly unsettling.