



Against a nocturnal field of green-black, the painting stages a suspended anatomy of perception—an ear, a stitched mouth, and a single watchful eye—suggesting how listening, speech, and sight can be bound, censored, or distorted. A narrow vertical beam of light cleaves the space like a moral axis, while the small, drifting globe reads as both conscience and fragile world, hovering near the threshold of attention. Arabic calligraphy moves across the top and bottom like prayer or proclamation, turning the image into a meditation on silence: not merely the absence of voice, but the deliberate fog that keeps meaning from returning to its source.







