A woman stands alone in an open field, and almost everything about her is dissolved into haze. Igor Shulman keeps the whole canvas in soft sepia and grey-brown, so the figure, the grasses and the low band of trees behind her all seem to blur together as if seen through a failing memory.

She wears a simple light dress and holds a cluster of dark leafy branches low in front of her. Her face is barely there, smudged almost to nothing, while the meadow at her feet is worked in looser, scratchier strokes. There is no colour to speak of, just warm and cool browns and the pale wash of the sky.

Painted in oil on canvas in 2025, a square 50 by 50 centimetres. Memory is quiet and a little melancholy, the kind of image that feels half-remembered rather than clearly seen.