

This hybrid creature—part goat, part human, part totem—rises in strict profile like a relic of instinct given ceremonial form, its taut silhouette pressing against the blank field as if demanding witness. The soft, earthen body tones are bruised by darker sweeps along the back and shoulders, a chiaroscuro that turns the surface into a map of burden and endurance rather than mere anatomy. With its mouth pried open in a perpetual cry or chant, the figure hovers between satire and sacredness, proposing that appetite, fear, and devotion share the same throat. Anchored on a raw wooden base, it reads as an offering excavated from memory—an object that makes the domesticated and the monstrous feel uncomfortably adjacent.







