Untitled 1

This work reads like a palimpsest of weathered walls, where flaking strata of chalky whites and earthen beiges expose a submerged band of blue—half sea, half bruise—held in suspension. The composition hinges on that horizontal drift, its rough impasto and torn edges suggesting time’s quiet abrasion, as if memory has been scraped back to reveal a colder, truer layer beneath. Darkened blooms and fissures punctuate the surface like withheld words, turning decay into a tender kind of cartography—an elegy for places that persist only as texture.