Untitled 27

A burnished field of umber and rust holds a pale, wavering band of light like a distant horizon struggling to stay intact. Across it, taut, angular lines accumulate in layered rhythms—part map, part waveform—suggesting both the architecture of memory and the tremor of time passing. The abrasion and haze in the surface read as sediment: experience compacted into atmosphere, where clarity is brief and everything else remains in motion. The piece feels like a quiet reckoning between order and erosion, insisting that stability is always provisional.