Hamela

A luminous band of vertical marks rises like a thinning forest at daybreak, its greens and ember-orange tones dissolving into a pale, weathered sky that feels both washed clean and timeworn. A dark, steady horizon cleaves the composition, and beneath it the world returns as reflection—streaked, softened, and interrupted by flecks of white that read like foam or light skipping on water. The piece turns landscape into memory: an image simultaneously forming and erasing itself, where nature’s certainty is held in delicate tension with the instability of perception.