We Are Fishes

A flotilla of dark, serrated creatures drifts across a crystalline blue field, their bodies built from ribbed planes and tessellated scales that make each form feel both armored and vulnerable. The compressed space and the scattering of sharp triangles turn the surrounding “water” into a fractured psychology, where movement is suggested not by waves but by tension—anxieties pivoting, colliding, and reassembling. Against the cool, faceted ground, the earthen band below reads like a thin shelf of stability, as if these beings hover between habitat and abyss, embodying a parable of survival in a world whose very atmosphere is splintered. The limited palette intensifies the mood: blues sharpen into alertness while the browns and blacks absorb light, proposing an ecosystem of shadows where instinct becomes the dominant language.