Hawthorn is dense and thorny, so small birds sit in it safely — nothing bigger can push through. Hence the title.
The tit has its feathers ruffled and is turned aside, as if it had just heard something behind it. Painted on dry paper in small strokes, so the plumage keeps a direction.
The hawthorn fruits are still green, with an orange trace of the flower at the tip — this is the end of summer, not autumn. Sky and leaves were laid wet on wet and deliberately carry no outline; the bird alone is sharp.
PRICE — 350 PLN