



A herd of horses surges across the surface like a single, urgent breath, their bodies fractured into angular planes that turn motion into a kind of visual percussion. The palette of ash blues, smoky grays, and sudden ochres reads as both weather and memory, as if the figures are galloping through a storm of time rather than a literal landscape. Directional arrows and banded horizontals impose a man-made logic upon instinct, suggesting the tension between freedom and the systems that attempt to measure, steer, or contain it. In this collision of speed and structure, the work becomes a meditation on momentumβhow vitality persists even when the world is reduced to signals, fragments, and noise.







