

Against a tranquil field of green, a lone blue-skinned flautist stands like a still axis while the herd of pale cows multiplies around him in rhythmic procession, turning repetition into a kind of visual chant. The composition’s flat, ornamented clarity—outlined forms, measured spacing, and softly burnished color—creates a sacred order where motion feels both ceremonial and suspended. Here, sound is implied rather than heard: the flute becomes a quiet force of cohesion, suggesting devotion as a gravity that gathers the many into a single, harmonious gaze.







