GEOMETRY OF EMOTION

This series is a breadcrumb trail — each mark a quiet return to the body, to the land, to memory. Created with red maple, golden limonite, and white ink on brown paper, these works are my conversation with root and rhythm, with longing and presence. They are marks of home: not just a physical place, but a felt awareness — an inner terrain where anatomy meets nature, and noise gives way to stillness.

Each drawing begins with the impulse to listen — to the wind, to the weight of ink on paper, to the breath between thoughts. Titles like “Maiastra,” “Moon Garden,” “Flapping Wings,” “Rooted,” “Mycelium Mystery,” “Metropolis Garden,” and “Love in White and Black” are not captions, but openings — portals into layered states of feeling and becoming. The series is infused with opposites: urban and wild, fluid and structured, golden and raw, threading together experiences of living within the tension between metropolis life and a deep, aching desire for reconnection with nature.

The materials themselves are part of this language. Red maple, collected from my Canadian landscape, carries the intimacy of autumn and memory — a pigment that speaks in rust and blood, decay and flame. Golden limonite, an earthy mineral pigment, becomes a symbol of inner light, emergence, and quiet abundance. White ink slices through these layers like clarity, bone, breath. The brown paper is both soil and skin — grounding each gesture in tactility, in time.

At the heart of this work is a deep curiosity about how we live between worlds — how we contain both the chaos of the city and the clarity of a moonlit garden. Each drawing is an intuitive choreography of line and form, where veins become roots, flowers resemble lungs, and mycelial threads mirror thought patterns. Anatomy and ecology are not separate systems here — they dissolve into one another, forming what I call the geometry of emotion.

This garden is not manicured. It is blooming, dissolving, reforming. It grows out of lived experience, emotional residue, and moments of quiet clarity. Some works dance — “Dancing Winds,” “Play,” “Blooming in Gold” — while others rest in contemplative stillness — “Dormancy,” “Mindfluids,” “Moon Flower.” Some vibrate with urban energy — “Metropolis Afternoon Noise,” others pulse with ancestral memory and longing — “Rooted,” “Mycelium Mystery.”

Through these works, I offer a visual language of return — not to nostalgia, but to embodied presence. To the idea that even in a fractured, fast-moving world, there are places inside us where we can root, bloom, and become again. This is a cartography of that inner garden. A soft mapping of where I’ve been, where I belong, and where I’m always arriving.

1 + 1 = 11

Ruxandra. 

Jun 30th, 2025