A monochrome thicket of slanted strokes rises like a remembered forest—more sensation than depiction—where trunks and undergrowth dissolve into a restless weave of charcoal greys. Light is not painted as illumination but as abrasion, scraped open through dense shadow to suggest fleeting clearings and the nervous pulse of wind. The composition’s fractured planes keep the eye wandering without rest, turning nature into an inner terrain of persistence and unease, as if the landscape is negotiating its own disappearance. In this suspended hush, the marks become both branches and broken thoughts, a meditation on how the mind maps wilderness when certainty is stripped away.
