In his paintings Šimon Vahala presents things around us in their simple beauty that he is able to capture from inside—to touch it directly. We recognize them intimately, although we never saw things in quite the same way before.
Lately, flowers became Vahala’s subject. He paints what could be called portraits of flowers, where in a simple composition and a seemingly roughly cut, sketch-like style, he captures each flower’s character, the simple naiveté of its presence, composed of the slightest nuances imaginable, the moving of its pedals, the freshness of the air, the atmosphere of one fleeting moment with all the moods and tones it contains.
Vahala’s paintings are characteristic by a strange silence that overtakes us. It is not the silence of the absence of words - in their suspense, when expecting words to finally come and to explain - but silence of a world where words never existed and never will, a silence that tunes us to the frequency of a butterfly flapping its wings while flying, when we do not know how to put into words what we feel. Here, in silence that tunes us to the frequency of a butterfly flapping its wings while flying, we do not know how to put into words what we feel. That allows the feeling to stay with us—unsaid, uninformed, uncovered, free.