There are moments when a painting feels less like something I created and more like something that revealed itself to me. The Heart That Birthed the Universe is one of those moments. This piece came from a place beyond words—a deep, internal pulse I can only describe as cosmic. I didn’t set out to paint the universe. I didn’t plan the colours or the structure. I simply began with a feeling: a sense of something vast, silent, and full of energy—like a heart quietly beating at the centre of everything. The painting evolved around a central form: not quite a heart in the anatomical sense, but a symbolic one. Radiating from it are lines, threads, and bursts—forms that remind me of galaxies, particles, rays of light, or even the veins of time itself. I used a mix of white, red, gold, and darker tones to create contrast, motion, and mystery. To me, it feels like a moment of birth, of sacred expansion—the very beginning of something eternal. Looking at it now, I see my own journe...
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