Oh, you bet! I grab that smoky amber, the scent of a campfire still humming after a duel, and let it bleed into the canvas. I let the brush run wild, splattering charcoal gray against hot orange, like sparks flying in a night sky. That raw, heated energy—it's what fuels my strokes. I chase the blaze by letting the color itself crackle, so every line feels alive and just a breath away from erupting.