Pop art beauty , like an icon of forgotten times, a silhouette against a golden glow of leaves, where memories rustle like barren leaves in the wind.
On her head rests a spiny ball, rusty orange as autumn clings, a crown - or is it a helmet? Protection and splendour in the same breath. The spines catch the light, glowing purple and copper.
Her white top is austere, striped understated, and precisely because of that, a mirror for the ferocity of the rust, the fire, the colour that surrounds her.
She says nothing, but everything speaks: the sheen of the past, the language of texture, the paradox of softness and sharpness.
Pop art beauty, like an icon of forgotten times, a silhouette against a golden glow, where memories rustle like dry leaves in the wind.
On her head rests a prickly ball, rusty orange like autumn clinging, a crown - or is it a helmet? Protection and splendour in one breath. The pricks catch the light, glow purple and copper.
Her white top is sober, striped and modest, and precisely because of that a mirror for the fierceness of the rust, the fire, the colour that surrounds her.
She says nothing, but everything speaks: the shine of the past, the language of texture, the paradox of softness and sharpness.
After my 4-year Art Education, I teached creative courses for years and created ceramic sculptures in my own studio.
In 2014, out of interest in digital photography and photo editing, I started photographing again as a hobby during holidays and walks in nature. Bought an album with vintage..
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