Untitled 3 (Heart and Footprints)

Set against a field of visceral crimson that reads like both womb and warning, the central form becomes a floating vessel—part amniotic space, part intimate reliquary—holding the soft impressions of feet and circular voids like embryonic echoes. At its core, an anatomized heart blooms with tiny, repeated love-motifs, transforming biology into a tender ledger of attachment, as if affection itself were a measurable organ. The cool, shadowed blues of the interior temper the surrounding heat, creating a suspended stillness where vulnerability is protected yet exposed, and the image hovers between medical diagram and devotional icon. In this tension, the work suggests that care and fragility are inseparable: love is not decoration, but the pulse that keeps the body—and the memory of belonging—alive.