


Suspended in a field of chalky white, two mask-like constellations of form emerge as if excavated from memory—half-figures, half-diagrams—where carved textures and faint glyphs suggest a language on the edge of being understood. The left presence reads as porous and searching, its muted greens and bruised reds stitched together like a psyche holding itself in place; the right compresses into a denser, more volatile cluster, punctuated by hot circular reds that pulse like warning lights or watchful eyes. Between them, negative space becomes a charged silence, turning the canvas into a theatre of encounter where identity is assembled from fragments, symbols, and the uneasy intimacy of looking back.







