A crazy story:
Years after separating from my husband, yet still living in the house we once shared, I received an unexpected visit—from him. My ex. And just like that, what began as a fleeting encounter turned into a stay that stretched across the entire summer.
After four years apart, there he was again—knocking on my bedroom door to ask for toothpaste. Madness, isn’t it? To cohabit with someone who already left.
During his stay, he asked me for many things. One of them was to organize a dinner for a potential client—someone who might bring him future work. And that’s how I met The General.
Self-important and theatrical, the General arrived with a woman on one arm—whom he seemed to manipulate—and his lawyer on the other, a man who played the Devil’s advocate a little too well. There were other guests that night, but the evening revolved around him and his ominous tales. When it ended, a thick, bitter taste lingered in the air.
A few days later, I poured that strange night onto a 5-by-3-meter canvas.
Heavy black brushstrokes stretch across the surface like a dense veil, layer upon layer, hiding and revealing. From within those dark folds, the three figures emerge—hand in hand—captured in a form of figurative expressionism that speaks more through shadow than form.
The General is a portrait of control, ego, and the unsettling power that can fill a room—and stain a memory.
