Takshaka

This work stages a mythic confrontation between enclosure and radiance: a vast, textured black form arcs like a protective yet consuming canopy, swallowing the picture space even as it frames it. Against this weight, the citrus-like wheel of gold turns as a small sun—part offering, part engine—around which silhouetted figures orbit, their gestures suggesting ritual, labor, and passage. The left-hand grid of vignetted scenes reads like memory panels or ancestral fragments, while the turbulent ribbons of red and blue stitch the whole into a single breath, implying that personal history and collective dream share the same restless current. Light here is not merely illumination but testimony—an insistence that warmth can persist inside shadow, and that narrative survives by being continually carried forward.