Untitled 7

Two soot-dark, cratered masses hover in a field of near-clinical white, tethered by a thin, viscous thread that reads like a fragile lifeline between separate worlds. The glossy blacks swallow light while small ruptures flare with ember-orange, suggesting wounds that also illuminate—damage turned into a kind of internal weather. Skewering diagonals introduce a quiet violence, pinning the forms in place even as their edges bleed outward, and the whole composition becomes an uneasy meditation on attachment: how proximity can both preserve and deform.