Forest Floor builds from the bottom up, the way soil layers do before anything grows through them. The lower half is dense with terracotta and warm rust, applied in bold diagonal strokes that read like exposed earth cut open. Forest green layers over and beneath these marks in thick slabs of palette knife work, ranging from deep hunter green in the heaviest passages to a muted, dusty sage where the paint thins at each stroke's edge.

Near the centre, small passages of off-white sit in short, compressed impasto marks, catching light the way frost catches on bark in early morning. They are interruptions, moments of brightness inside an otherwise grounded composition.

The piece becomes looser and more gestural as it moves upward, as if the weight of the earth below is gradually releasing. The result is a canvas that feels both anchored and alive, heavy with texture and movement held just below the surface.