

A column of small birds perched on austere taps reads like a quiet inventory of repetition—life waiting at the threshold of release—while the vast white ground turns absence into a palpable presence. Opposite this measured cadence, a single enlarged bird balances atop a swollen vessel and an oversized spout, its improbable scale shift transforming the everyday plumbing of need into a surreal monument. The graphite’s tender gradations lend the metal a bruised luminosity, suggesting that what should flow is withheld, and that patience itself becomes a kind of architecture. In the tension between serial restraint and singular excess, the work meditates on scarcity, expectation, and the fragile poise of desire.







