Untitled 107

The composition reads like a cross-section of memory in motion: a high, undulating band of dark, rhythmic strokes presses forward as if soundwaves have been made visible, while the lower register ignites into molten oranges and reds that feel both celebratory and volatile. Against the stark white ground, the artist allows breath and rupture—scraped passages and broken textures—so the eye oscillates between density and silence, control and sudden release. Scattered petal-like fragments drift through the middle, softening the force of the currents and suggesting fleeting impressions carried between two powerful tides of experience.