Untitled 2

A stark, etched figure stands like an icon rescued from a weathered wall—part childlike glyph, part sentinel—its squared head and cross-hatched features holding a gaze that is both guarded and quietly accusatory. The monochrome field, bruised with smudges and scratches, turns negative space into atmosphere, as if memory itself has stained the surface. One arm presses across the torso in a gesture of self-protection while the other rises in a tentative signal, suggesting both vulnerability and a stubborn will to be seen. Scattered marks—small triangles, spindly trees, and ground lines—read as fragments of landscape or language, implying a personal cosmology where survival is recorded as simple signs.