How to describe marichr's work, if not through the colour it leaves in its wake?

But better, perhaps, I should say that marichr releases the colour that she has within her. The nuances and the plays of material that invest the observer arrive straight from her head and heart to construct the theme of a very intimate tale. As if the chromatic plays, fruit of her creation, were the only means of communication possible between her inner life and the surrounding world. To paint of necessity, to make emerge that which can't be seen through a river of light. And in this complex refraction of particles, to reconcile oneself both with oneself and with the world, without ever renouncing self expression.

Colour, in its infinite possibilities and in its  absolute physical subjectivity, has always fascinated me and, perhaps for this reason, I continually remain astonished in front of works of one who uses it wjth such capability. A few years ago, long before I knew marichr's work, I wrote a poem about colour. I hadn't thought, at the time, how perfect it would be for her.

ORIGIN

A swarm of particles
bursts foth unexpectedly
sectioning off spaces
of disordered light.
Energy
of vortices and spirals
which melt together
and trip
in sinuous forms
in open wings in light flights.
And is colour which spreads.