Save Arey

This densely layered tableau reads like a palimpsest of extraction and pursuit: a scarred earth crisscrossed by tracks and cut-stumps, where trains and felled timber diagram an economy that keeps moving even as the ground is emptied. Against that bruised, earthen palette, small flare-ups of color—bundled logs, scattered foliage, the cold band of water with boats hovering above—punctuate the surface like fragile remnants of abundance. The animals threaded through the central corridor become both witnesses and fugitives, their presence turning the composition into a moral map where every line of motion implies displacement. Space compresses into a restless, all-over field, suggesting a world in which landscape has become ledger: recorded, consumed, and still hauntingly alive.