A Meeting At Night

This abstract composition reads like a weathered cartography of memory—blocks of ochre, rust, and earthen greens stacked and abraded until they feel simultaneously built and eroded. A heavy, dusk-like canopy presses down from above, turning the scattered warm passages into embers that flicker against a restrained, smoky atmosphere. The interplay of sharp-edged geometry and softened, scraped textures suggests a city or landscape remembered rather than observed, where structure persists but certainty dissolves. In its quiet tension between construction and decay, the work becomes a meditation on habitation—how places hold us, and how time unhouses them.