

Shaped like a protective emblem, each spade-form becomes a vessel where dense, hand-wrought vortices of black-and-white linework press down upon a quieter photographic world, as if thought and weather were the same force. The lower fields—tinged in mossy green or midnight blue—hold fragments of landscape and small human silhouettes, turning the scene into a meditation on scale: our bodies as brief notes inside larger, restless systems. This tension between patterned abstraction and documentary image reads like memory itself—part ornament, part evidence—suggesting that what we see is always filtered through the swirling architecture of perception.







