There are moments in nature that speak directly to the heart — quiet moments, subtle, almost ordinary to anyone else. But to me, they become turning points. This painting, Resilience, was born from one of those moments.

I was hiking in the Monte Sibillini mountains in Italy. It was a hot summer day, and the earth around us felt tired. The grass was dry and golden, the ground cracked beneath our steps, and the air was still hot. We stopped to rest, and as I looked across the hillside, my eyes settled on two trees.

They were standing side by side — not lush, not in bloom, but steady. They held the space around them. They offered shade. They endured.

Despite the intense heat…
Despite the lack of rain…
Despite the season’s harshness…
They remained rooted, present, alive.

And something inside me shifted.

In those two trees, I saw myself.
I saw the difficult seasons I had moved through — the confusion, the emotional dryness, the uncertainty, the ache of not knowing what comes next. And yet, through all of it, I kept going. I adapted. I stayed. I learned to hold myself. I realized, standing there in that valley, that I had learned to be resilient — quietly, steadily, without fanfare.