The Third Eye

The canvas ignites. Blazing yellow floods the background like a sun that has come too close, and against it every colour fights for its place,  electric blue, deep crimson, magenta, emerald, turquoise. A large fractured head dominates the upper right, its face split cleanly between warm and cool, the two halves of a self that has learned to hold contradiction. A bull surges from the left, raw and ancient. Birds are embedded in the composition; watching, always watching. At the centre, visible impasto catches the light physically, the paint scraped and layered until the surface itself becomes an event. This is not a painting you look at quietly. It arrives. It insists. The third eye in ancient Mesopotamian tradition is the organ of inner sight and the ability to perceive what ordinary vision cannot reach. Here it is not mystical. It is survival. The capacity, earned through fracture and loss, to see past the surface of things and past the noise, past the damage, and find, still burning underneath, the truth.