Untitled 138 (Tea Time Whimsy II)

A teacup, rendered in saturated reds and oranges, becomes a small altar of domestic ritual, its warmth countered by surrounding blooms of watery browns and violets that drift like unresolved memories across the page. The dotted contours and ink-black fragments read as breath or murmured thought escaping the vessel, turning the simple act of pouring into a meditation on what the body holds and what it releases. Negative space is treated as silence—an active field where stains, drips, and translucent veils perform time itself, suggesting that comfort is never pure, but steeped with shadow and aftertaste.