



This work stages a dense conversation between memory and structure, where weathered, earthen blocks of color feel like fragments salvaged from walls, streets, and worn interiors. The composition’s strict grid is repeatedly unsettled by the dark vertical bands and a pale architectural form near the base, as though a threshold is trying to hold together what time has already begun to erode. Its tactile surfaces—scraped, layered, and oxidized in reds, greens, and umbers—turn paint into a kind of archaeology, suggesting that stability is always provisional and built atop accumulated traces. The overall mood is quietly resolute: a city of sensations, patched and reinforced, finding coherence through scar and seam rather than smooth perfection.







