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Although the word picnic originates in French, the act itself slips easily across borders and eras. We all understand the simple pleasure of spreading a blanket, passing bread, and letting time loosen its grip. I draw on that universality by painting objects anyone might recognize: glossy cherries, layered cakes, torn baguettes, half-empty wine bottles. These motifs function as coordinates in a shared memory map, allowing each viewer to locate a personal point of entry, as well as historical symbols in my personal life.

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Color is my primary tool for amplifying that connection. Using a deliberately saturated palette, I push ordinary objects toward the edge of the surreal: strawberries glow hotter than reality would allow, glass catches light that seems both natural and impossible. This heightened tonality isn’t only about visual impact; it’s a way to suggest that the picnic is already halfway to dream, a place where expectation tilts into imagination.

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Each of the fifteen paintings also includes traces of human presence—a jacket slumped on the grass, sunglasses knocked askew, lipstick on a drained cocktail glass. These fragments signal activity just out of frame, inviting the viewer to step into the scene and complete the narrative. At the same time, the arrangement freezes these clues in an eternal midday, asking us to linger in a moment that resists closure.

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Ultimately, I see the picnic as a compact utopia: an interval where pleasure is foregrounded, consequences are deferred, and community briefly reasserts itself against the weight of routine. By stretching that instant across a canvas, I hope to create a space where viewers can rest for a while, consider what it means to pause together, and perhaps carry a trace of that suspended ease back into everyday life.

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- Pedro Pedro