Regina RzaevaMid Day (2026)

A nine-paned window floats high on a wall washed in warm, peach-tinged light, its frame so pale and softly drawn that it seems to be dissolving into the plaster around it. Through the glass, green is reduced to gesture: broad leaves and slanting stalks, a strip of lawn, all blurred into a hazy, luminous vision of the garden. Below, the lower third of the canvas gives way to a field of cool, milky blue, the soft folds of bedding or a drift of fabric, where the window’s light falls in pale, elongated panes. The shadow of the glass is cast across the surface, so the window appears twice, once as an object on the wall and once as a trace on the bed. Contours are tender, edges melt into one another, and the palette of cream, mint, and powder blue holds the entire scene in a suspended, almost overexposed brightness. Time slows here. The title points to the hour when light is at its fullest and the day seems to pause. The thin application of oil, laid delicately along the weave, lets the linen breathe through the image, so that surface and subject merge.