My mother 1973

Sattar Bahlulzade made "My Mother" with paint; it’s a large work, almost like being in a room. Imagine him, brush in hand, building this world. The painting feels woven together with its delicate blues, pinks, and greens. I see Bahlulzade layering, drawing, searching for the right form, almost like he's writing. The flowers in the foreground droop like the most beautiful weeping willows, framing his mother who sits so serene. I wonder about his process, did he start with the mountains, then the sky, then the flowers? How did it feel for him to evoke her presence through this landscape? It feels like love and memory have built this world. Painters are always in conversation with each other, even across time. Bahlulzade reminds us that painting isn't just about seeing; it's about feeling, remembering, and maybe, honoring those we love most.