Untitled 139 (Serene Landscape)

A vast, muted sky presses down on a fractured middle band of forms, where sharp-edged planes and bruised browns suggest architecture or memory in the act of collapse and reconstruction. The composition is cleaved into quiet registers—air, rupture, and a saturated green field—so that space becomes psychological: an expanse of withholding above and a ground of insistence below. Sparse, floating marks—like half-formed glyphs or distant birds—puncture the calm, implying signals that never fully resolve, as though the landscape is speaking in fragments. Light is handled as a veil rather than a spotlight, softening edges and turning the scene into a meditation on thresholds: between structure and erosion, clarity and doubt, presence and disappearance.