Rooted in quiet contemplation, still life reveals the poetry of everyday objects. Our collection transforms the ordinary into the eternal—vessels of memory, harmony, and light.
A rumpled tablecloth cradles a jug of bold flowers, their petals almost vibrating against the muted background. Nearby, an apple and a simple container sit quietly, their forms distilled to essential shapes. Color hums with quiet intensity, turning an ordinary still life into something charged and alive.
A single rose rests in a woven basket, its petals soft against the rough texture. The play of light and shadow gives depth to the simple arrangement, turning everyday objects into something quietly striking. There’s warmth in the muted tones, as if the scene holds a secret just beneath the surface.
A green glass glows on the café table, its liquid catching the light. The absinthe sits untouched, waiting. Shadows pool around it, deepening the quiet tension between indulgence and restraint. The air feels thick with possibility—one sip away from slipping into another world.
Golden petals twist upward, heavy with sunlight. The flowers lean together, their stems tangled in shadow. Yellow blooms glow against the dark, each brushstroke thick with life. There’s something restless in the way they bend—not just growing, but reaching.
Sunlight glows through thin orange peels, their weight bending a slender branch. The fruit hangs ripe, almost heavy enough to drop. Shadows pool beneath them, sharp against the rough bark. You can almost smell the citrus, feel the sticky juice waiting to burst.
Sunlight spills across the terrace, warming the terracotta pots. Geraniums burst in red clusters, their leaves brushing against each other in the breeze. The air hums with quiet warmth, the kind that lingers long after summer fades.
A tangle of blooms spills across the canvas—vibrant yet unsettling. The flowers seem to pulse with hidden meaning, their petals hovering between dream and decay. Something lingers beneath the surface of this bouquet, whispering in colors too rich for mere decoration.
Lilacs burst from the earthen vase, their purple clusters spilling over the rim. The yellow-green vessel glows against muted shadows, holding the wild bouquet in imperfect balance. Brushstrokes blur the line between flowers and air—as if scent itself had color.
A glass vase overflows with blooms—some delicate, others wilting. Their petals blur between dream and decay, glowing against the dark like embers. This bouquet feels alive, pulsing with color that defies the stillness around it.