



A single orange-red fruit sits like a pulse of warmth amid the cool, fractured geometry of crumpled cellophane, its soft organic volume held in tension against the brittle sheen of synthetic folds. The painter choreographs light across sharp highlights and smeared greys, letting reflections splinter and recombine so the wrapper becomes a restless landscape rather than mere packaging. In this quiet still life, abundance feels provisional—tender color briefly sheltered by a disposable skin—suggesting the fragile intimacy between nourishment and the glossy artifice that surrounds it.







