



This work coils inward like a quiet weather system, its spiral of earthen reds, soot-black, and milk-white forming a tactile vortex that feels both protective and consuming. The repeated, hairline strokes create a fibrous skin, turning color into texture and suggesting breath, fur, or sedimentβmatter patiently laid down by time. As the warm outer ring yields to a darker core, the composition reads as a meditation on cycles: intimacy and entrapment, shelter and hunger, the self folding back upon itself in search of a still center. The surrounding pale ground, lightly scored with circular traces, holds the turbulence in suspension, as if the motion were memory rather than force.







