The Winter 1993

Viorel Marginean painted this winter scene with some kind of medium that feels a bit chalky and dry. Imagine him standing there, brush in hand, trying to capture that crystalline light after snowfall. The landscape emerges from the top down, morphing from grey sky into pure white, with strokes of earthy browns and greens peeking through. He works his way down the slope, adding buildings and rendering the flocks of grazing sheep. I’m fascinated by how Marginean builds the village using tiny strokes of white and red – dabs that suggest more than they depict. Those red roofs are like visual exclamation marks, aren’t they? It makes me think about folk art and the way that artists like Marginean offer us direct access to their inner worlds, unfiltered and raw. To me, this painting is not just a landscape; it's a world conjured from memory and emotion.