Untitled 10 (Backyard Harmony)

This quietly charged scene stages a humble still life of transit and survival: a weathered red bicycle, half-submerged in shadow, becomes an emblem of labor paused rather than leisure enjoyed. The composition hinges on a dialogue between the bleached, sun-struck ground and the dense, earthen darkness beyond, where the chickens—small but vividly alert—puncture the gloom with embered reds and golds, like living sparks of continuity. Scraps of cloth, stone, and rusted metal accumulate into a tactile chorus of the everyday, suggesting a life built from remnants, where dignity resides in persistence and routine. In the tension between the bicycle’s circular geometry and the irregular rubble at its feet, the work intimates how fragile order is, and how resiliently it is remade each day.