Paintings
Mousem Sidi Moussa
Beneath Aglou's ever-changing sky, the ancient rhythm of Morocco's most beloved gathering comes alive. Tents rise like soft mountains, sheltering stories of community and celebration.
The canvas flows with echoes of tbourida—horses and riders dancing together in timeless ceremony. Here, abstraction becomes intimacy, capturing not faces but the very pulse of a people.
Where tradition breathes in color.
Moments
Memory refuses to behave. It circles back, collects in unexpected corners, leaves marks that fade and reappear like tide pools.
This canvas holds those scattered moments—the ones we revisit without choosing to, the fragments that shape us in ways we're only beginning to understand.
Time as it truly moves: not forward, but everywhere at once.
Explosion
The moment everything broke open. Color erupts across canvas like years of silence finally finding sound—handprints pressed in defiance, feathers floating free from old cages.
This is where abstract began for me: not as technique, but as necessity. The wild brushstrokes carry what words never could.
Sometimes you have to explode to become whole.
Chaos line
In the eye of chaos, everything sharpens. A fierce line cuts through stillness—black warning, yellow lightning, orange fire—demanding we choose between surrender and strength.
This is where clarity lives: not in calm, but in the choice to stand firm while the world blurs around you.
Some storms reveal who we really are.
Tigri Session
Where Atlantic currents meet ancient shores, skilled hands gather life from the sea. Swirling blues breathe with tidal rhythm while golden-brown earth holds memory in its warmth.
White strokes trace the delicate dance of moss gathering—generations of women reading the ocean's gifts, their movements both labor and prayer.
Each tide whispers the same promise: abundance, if you know how to listen.
In Between
In the tender space where almost meets never, two realms hover on the edge of becoming. A whisper of white holds them apart—or perhaps, holds them together.
Here lives the exquisite ache of transition, the profound beauty of not knowing what comes next.
Sometimes the pause between heartbeats contains everything.
Storm in My Head
When words abandon you, color speaks. Deep purples churn with restless thought while lightning-white strikes illuminate the mind's relentless weather.
Red urgency cuts through blue contemplation—the beautiful chaos of a heart that feels too much, thinks too deeply.
Some storms can only be painted, never stilled.
Silent Warning
At the heart of this canvas lies something achingly familiar—the fragile core we all carry. Palm fibers become metaphor, tender yet resilient, surrounded by life's verdant possibilities.
But notice the orange lines threading through—those silent warnings we so often ignore. Fear, pain, the quiet erosion that happens when we stop listening to ourselves.
A reminder that both hearts and nature speak in whispers before they break.
Roots
"Wherever you go, you will find Moroccan people," my father used to say. Here, a golden stem rises into distant skies while red and green roots hold fast to sacred ground.
The swirling background carries stories of movement, migration, dreams that cross oceans. Yet beneath every journey lies this truth: home travels within us.
No distance can sever what the heart carries.
A Pause in Time
This landscape holds more than mountains and sky—it carries the weight of a first breath, the trembling moment when fear and joy collide over pristine canvas.
Beneath every brushstroke lives that tender voice of encouragement, whispering past the terror of beginning: you can do this.
Sometimes the most honest paintings are about the courage to start.