Private Lake

Private Lake sets a nude figure against flowers and distance, then lets paint decide what feels solid. The man faces left, head lowered, eyes cast down as if listening inward. His torso fills the center, calm and frontal, while an enormous bouquet swells behind his head and shoulders—dense with reds, oranges, yellows, and violets, punctuated by dark greens.

The background opens briefly at the lower left: a low mountain line and a small lake under a sky that warms near the horizon. It’s not an elaborate landscape; it’s a measured strip of space that gives the figure somewhere to be without turning him into a symbol. The light reads as late or settling, with warmth near the ground and cooler air above.

The tension is technical and emotional at once. The body is constructed in pointillistic marks—countless tiny strokes that keep skin from arriving at a single final tone. Color sits in layers: cool notes and warm notes held side by side, so the figure seems to shimmer rather than pose. From a few steps back, the anatomy holds its structure; up close, it becomes a field of small, persistent decisions.

The flowers answer with weight. They are painted more materially—thicker strokes, fuller petal mass—so they behave like objects you could touch. That contrast matters: the figure stays optical, the bouquet stays physical. It turns ornament into something almost protective, not as cover, but as pressure—thoughts and feeling piled high behind the head.

The painting keeps its intimacy private: a body present, a gaze lowered, and a landscape that stays quiet in the corner.