



This grid of delicate, floating forms reads like a botanical lexicon that has been unbound—each vignette suspending a hybrid of petal, seed, and gesture in a field of quiet air. Transparent washes of ochre, blush, and cool grey dissolve into one another, while inked tendrils and stippled shadows give the fragile bodies a pulse, as if they are mid-transformation rather than fully named. The repeated framing creates a rhythmic taxonomy, yet the variations—snipped stems, drifting cords, and one unruly red tangle—suggest memory and migration, a meditation on how living things are catalogued even as they resist containment. The overall effect is both clinical and tender: an archive of metamorphoses where absence of ground becomes the very space in which meaning can bloom.







