Untitled 26

This work stages a quiet archaeology of movement: a field of burnished ochres and honeyed browns where faint, angular tracings drift like half-remembered routes across weathered ground. The light feels absorbed rather than reflected, as if time has seeped into the surface, turning scratches and scuffs into a measured vocabulary of passage and erosion. Its restrained geometry never quite resolves into a single map, holding the viewer in a suspended state between navigation and reverie, where the desire for order meets the inevitability of decay.