haiticollectionpri

A hush hangs in the air—like the moment right before a story turns. In Untitled, Felix Lafortune invites you into a dim, living corridor of color where the trees don’t just stand… they flare, shimmer, and seem to watch. The scene feels both intimate and mythic, as if you’ve stepped into a secret garden that only appears when you’re willing to follow instinct instead of a map.

The first thing you feel in Together (2012) is a steady, almost ceremonial presence—two forms held in a single, radiant structure, as if closeness itself has been turned into pattern, color, and sacred geometry.

A painting can feel like a doorway—quiet at first, then suddenly expansive. In Untitled, ca. 1980, Madsen Monpremier offers a scene that reads like a midnight procession: poised, enigmatic, and softly luminous, as if the air itself has been cooled into color.