Oil on canvas – 10,63 x 8,27 inch – Unique work

Each year in quince land, it’s anarchy!

At the very beginning of spring, or more precisely at the end of winter, the quince’s flowers hatch. They hardly get out due to the age of their brown, fluffy white bark and dry in the sun. Well, when the sun is shining. Because obviously at this time of year, sunny days are unusual. Snow, frost and cold are more often in the area than sunshine. And that’s when, at this precise moment, that everything changes, hopelessly.

Some take up more space than others, these others are all curled up, and suddenly when they finally bring out their pale pink to candy pink muslin petals, they are all quirky. Furious, they attempt the ultimate revenge by blossoming as widely as possible and by hiding the unwanted. And every morning, the little merry-go-round starts again, tirelessly. The winners of the day before often become the losers of the day.

What a serenade, what a mess! The branches play a rather perverse role in this daily game. They allow themselves to be bought and convinced by these cunning and manipulative little hotties. Alternately smart, conspiratorial, secret, interrogative, suspicious. So cruel but so very real adjectives that harm these exquisite February flowers.

Solidarity is excluded in fact in this funny game mixing chance and calculation. The most exceptional of Machiavellianism are the flowerslooking harmless. Those all puny, clumsy, sometimes hideous who, like nothing, unfold their sails not to navigate but to annoy their sisters in misfortune. A small heart with large, wide skirts and a smirk.

Okay, so did you hear me loud and clear? Has everyone grasped the ruthless world of quincy bitches? I admit it straight away, I may have a bit exaggerated. I may have gotten carried away by a temporary wickedness related to age!

Come on, to re-establish the truth, there is in the shrub, and in some branches, quite acceptable quincy bitches. I wouldn’t go so far as to write that they are nice but at least not hostile. I wouldn’t go so far as to write that they are accommodating but at least non-binding. Besides, the branches welcome them with great pleasure and book the best places for them, at the end to taste the sweetness of the rays and prying eyes!