Flavus Clamans: The Sound of My Soul, Made Visible

50x50cm)

There are days when the canvas stares back, a blank expanse holding the promise of a story, or perhaps, a silent challenge. With 'Flavus clamans', I remember the weight of that silence, and the almost visceral need to break it.

When I first spread that audacious, unapologetic yellow across the surface, it wasn't a choice as much as an impulse. It felt like an eruption from deep within me – a scream of light, a surge of pure, unadulterated energy that simply had to burst forth. That yellow is me, in my most vulnerable, yet most defiant state. It is the core of who I am, vibrant and unwilling to be ignored.

Then came the dance of the black lines. I wasn't drawing; I was tracing the frantic pathways of my thoughts. Each scribble, each dash, each seemingly random mark was a fragment of a conversation, a fleeting idea, a half-remembered dream, or perhaps, the sheer exhilaration of existence itself. I felt as though I was pouring my consciousness directly onto the canvas, letting every ripple and eddy of my mind manifest as a tangible stroke. Sometimes, I found myself thinking of the constant hum of life, the ceaseless chatter and movement that surrounds us, and I wanted to capture that overwhelming sensory experience.

The blues and pinks then entered the conversation, not to quiet the yellow, but to amplify it, to give it form and emotion. When I laid down those bold turquoise circles, I was seeking a focal point amidst the delightful chaos, a moment of grounded presence. The sweeps of soft pink felt like tender sighs, like a momentary breath in the rush, or perhaps, the quiet joy found in unexpected corners. These colors, for me, were anchors, emotional punctuation marks in the symphony of the yellow. The deeper blues were moments of clarity, sharp and defined, cutting through the general buzz.

The texture, the layers upon layers of paint, speak to the history of this piece, and perhaps, the history of my own journey. Each brushstroke, each drip, each scraped-away section holds a moment, a decision, a feeling. It's not about perfection; it's about authenticity, about allowing the struggle and the rawness of the creative act to remain visible.

The title, 'Flavus clamans', is profoundly personal to me. 'Flavus' for the yellow, yes, but more importantly, for the fundamental brightness and life force that I feel within myself, even in moments of shadow. And 'clamans' – that is the crying out, the screaming, the insistent voice that demands to be heard. It's the yearning to express, to connect, to simply *be* seen and understood in a world often too busy to listen. This piece, 'Flavus clamans', is my most honest declaration, a vibrant testament to the noise and the beauty within me, poured out onto a canvas for all to witness. It is the sound of my soul, made visible.