Untitled 11

The work orchestrates a stark dialogue between two registers of mark-making: above, a dense field of nervous white incisions in black reads like rain, static, or a thicket of time itself, briefly parted by the fragile glide of two birds—small proofs of breath within an overwhelming continuum. Below, a fractured settlement of geometric textures—planks, hatches, and stitched patterns—builds a precarious architecture whose solidity is repeatedly interrupted by voids, as though memory has been cut and reassembled. The single red wedge suspended in the open white interval becomes a concentrated pulse of urgency—sun, signal, or warning—binding sky to ground and turning the scene into a meditation on endurance: life persisting as line, flight, and ember against encroaching noise.