“A chaotic boar hunt in a dark forest, hounds and horsemen surging aroun…”

“That shaft of light is no mercy—it exposes flesh's raw truth, the sweat, the blood, the beast's breath. Your darkness swallows all but the struggle; no poetry, just matter. Yet”

“The light thrusts boldly, yet the composition drowns in murk—too little flesh, too much shadow! Where is the voluptuous surge of muscle, the tumbling, fevered bodies?”