Untitled 11

A suspended band of ochres, wine reds, and ash-grey blocks drifts across a luminous turquoise field, as if a city’s memory has been flattened into pure rhythm and weight. The palette stages a tension between warmth and coolness—sun-baked pigments pressing against an atmospheric void—while the comb-like incisions and thin vertical drips read like pulse marks, scaffolding, or the measured breath of construction and erosion. Geometry here is never fixed; it fractures, re-stitches, and hovers, suggesting the way modern life is assembled from fragments—habitation, labor, and longing held together by repetition. In its stillness, the work becomes a quiet ledger of time: layered, scraped, and rebuilt, inviting the viewer to find coherence not in certainty, but in cadence.