H 30.0 x W 30.0 x D 5.0 cm

Ghost-white botanical prints mark the canvas surface like pressed specimens from a forgotten field notebook. Leaf shapes emerge through the golden ground in relief, rendered not with brushwork but with the plants themselves — their physical contact leaving traces in the pigment. The composition hovers between abstraction and document. Tiny flecks of red and dark blue punctuate the quiet ground like seeds scattered by wind. A meditation on care, on what we tend and what we allow to grow of its own accord.

H 200.0 x W 140.0 x D 5.0 cm

Where the green began to speak was part of the exhibition “Love Letter”. A love letter to the research and deep dive into the world of natural pigments. Where the green began to speak is one of the first paintings made with a base of natural pigmentations. This was the start of the new way of working for Melissa Mora.

H 30.0 x W 30.0 x D 5.0 cm

A luminous, golden ground swells from horizon to edge, softened by overlapping washes of the onion-skin bath. White botanical impressions — perhaps clover or chamomile — emerge from the lower half, their forms pressed rather than painted, their outlines soft as memory. Scattered red dots drift across the upper field, weightless and spare. This is a work about what you feel moving through tall grass on a warm day: the give of it, the smell, the light changing as you pass through. The cotton holds all of it.

H 123.0 x W 93.0 x D 3.0 cm

An explosion of life floats like a cloud through the centre of the canvas, olive green, off-white, pink and dark green collide before dissolving into the empty space around them. The onion-skin pigment base allows warm, earthy undertones to shine through, whilst chalk lines and brushstrokes remain visible as layers of thought. Purple and crimson droplets fall from the top downwards like seeds or rain. What dominates the canvas is precisely what it does not show: the white areas are not emptiness but depth, something that is already present, waiting to be seen.

H 93.0 x W 123.0 x D 5.0 cm

Golden-ochre foliage crowds the centre of the canvas in a loose, horizontal band — drawn in pencil outlines, filled by the pigment bath, scattered with tiny crimson dots like berries or blood. The upper half breathes white; the lower dissolves into translucent washes. Moria’s touch here is pared back and confident: the onion-skin ground does the heavy work, while gestural pencil lines give just enough definition to suggest species, season, location. Simplicity not as absence, but as trust in the material.