



A saturated sky of crimson dissolves into a deep cobalt field, as if dusk has been poured directly onto the surface, letting atmosphere become the subject. Across the horizon, a thin band of scraped whites and restless marks reads like a distant harbor or industrial skyline—structures half-emerging, half-erased—suggesting memory more than reportage. The composition hinges on the tension between the expansive color planes and the nervous, linear interruptions, evoking a quiet unease: beauty held in suspension over a terrain of abrasion, drips, and weathered texture. In this meeting of luminous pigment and worn surface, the work becomes a meditation on impermanence—how places persist not by clarity, but by the traces they leave behind.







