Retournelle

Retournelle evokes the rhythm of return — not repetition in the mechanical sense, but recurrence as a cosmic pattern. The painting spirals inward and outward at once, like memory folding back onto itself, like time breathing. At the center: not a point, but a presence. A pulse.

This is not just motion. It is the kind of movement that suggests orbit — a gravitational draw toward meaning that never fully arrives. The forms swirl like eddies in space, or thoughts in a mind that refuses to still. There’s a hypnotic pull to the composition, as if something is calling you back, again and again, to the same moment, the same question, the same sensation — not to resolve it, but to stay inside it.

Cosmically, it echoes the structure of galaxies, the geometry of storms, the mathematics of spirals found in nature and myth alike. Psychologically, it resembles the loop of emotion, of obsession, of introspection. A visual mantra. A loop with no closure.

Retournelle is a meditation on cycles — not ones that trap, but ones that teach. The kind that spin you back not into sameness, but into deeper understanding. The return is never exact. The spiral always shifts.