Mother Teresa (Life and Right)

This collage-like tableau suspends figures in a hush of pale ground where the repeated word “LIFE” becomes both mantra and indictment, turning existence into a printed pattern that threatens to flatten lived experience. Against that mechanical chorus, the painted bodies—an elderly woman anchored in grief, a monk-like presence in red, a laborer mid-stride, and a childlike figure cloaked in ochre—surface as intimate witnesses, their isolation bridged only by the Dalmatian’s direct gaze. Ribboning, nerve-like currents of color sweep through the scene as if memory itself were wiring these lives together, while the floating dots read as quiet coordinates—moments of fate, or pauses in breath—punctuating a narrative that refuses a single origin. The work holds tenderness and disquiet in equal measure: a meditation on how human dignity persists, luminous and fragile, inside the circuitry of the everyday.