The Hour the Lions Passed

Horizontal and crowded, built like a procession you have arrived at halfway through: white-robed figures with red caps, dark faces, two great black beasts moving between them, one figure beneath a crimson parasol. Chalk white and slate against oxblood, rust and a wash of sad blue. The surface is scraped, dripped and scribbled into — marks that behave like drumbeats.

It reads as myth rather than reportage. Hung along a long wall, it pulls the whole room into its rhythm.

Acrylic and mixed media on canvas. Signed. Dimensions on request. Wax-sealed certificate of authenticity included.