Fregmented (The Barber's Chair)

In this cool, fractured palette, the figure and animal form are built from angular planes of blue, ash, and ochre, as if memory itself has been cut into facets and reassembled. The tight geometry of windows and beams presses inward, turning the room into a quiet container where tenderness is measured against enclosure, and the act of holding becomes both care and restraint. Light slides across the bodies in broken strokes, lending the scene a hesitant intimacy—private, transient, and edged with the unease of being observed. What emerges is a tender tableau suspended between domestic ritual and psychological shelter, where companionship reads as a fragile defense against an austere world.