

A solitary fish, rendered in inky blue-black, hangs in a suspended descent against a field of scorched orange, as if caught between elemental states—water remembered, ground imposed. Above it, a cavernous sweep of charcoal marks reads like a collapsing canopy or distant mountain, pressing downward with a weight that turns the surrounding space into an atmosphere of foreboding. The torn paper edges and layered textures amplify a sense of abrasion and survival, suggesting a life displaced from its natural current and forced to negotiate an unfamiliar, arid terrain. In this uneasy balance of buoyancy and gravity, the image becomes a quiet allegory of dislocation—beauty held in tension with threat.







