In the Shadow of the Canopies

Above our heads unfolds a world we barely perceive: that of the canopy. The uppermost layer of the forest, a suspended threshold between sky and earth, it filters light, shelters life, and softens sound. Everywhere, the canopy forms a living architecture — both dense and fragile — that regulates the rhythm of the world below.

Mégane Likin chooses to inhabit this in-between, within the cast shadow of these vegetal heights. Through her work, she explores what remains hidden: what grows from within, what quietly surfaces, what keeps watch from above.

Throughout this body of work, a question persists: what are we truly looking at? The distant sky, or the density of foliage that conceals it? The light descending, or the shadow rising? This ambiguity runs through the series like a subtle thread: is the subject what is hidden, or what conceals it?

Here, the canopy extends beyond its natural reality to become a mental and emotional space — one of protection, withdrawal, and mystery. A perceptual threshold we cross without ever fully grasping it. With a nearly silent attentiveness, Likin invites us to slow down, to listen to what lies in between, to attune ourselves to what grows in the shadows.

Her works unfold as inner forests, where each detail quietly murmurs the presence of the living.