

A low, boxlike form becomes a quiet stage for an unsettling constellation of oversized matchsticks, their charred heads hovering just above the floor like spent comets suspended between ignition and aftermath. The composition hinges on tension—clean carpentered geometry pierced by diagonal thrusts—so that the work reads as both containment and rupture, a fragile order threatened by the very instruments of heat it seems to store. Burn marks and scorched gradients operate as a kind of drawing, turning the wood into a record of near-violence and reminding us that potential energy is never neutral. In this restrained palette of pale timber and blackened ends, the piece meditates on how destruction can be archived, aestheticized, and domesticated—kept in a box until the next spark.







