



Suspended in a field of velvety black, the coiled orange form reads like a plush reliquary—at once playful and strangely primordial—its glossy volume catching light as though it were inflated breath made visible. The scattered flecks of red and midnight blue disrupt the candy-like seduction with a quiet abrasion, suggesting bruises, seeds, or noise within an otherwise perfected surface. By compressing the composition into a tight spiral, the work turns inward: a meditation on self-containment where comfort and constraint share the same rounded skin, and the void around it becomes a charged, contemplative silence.







