

A regimented grid of circular cells, each cradling a small green bird, establishes a cool, almost industrial order that feels both protective and quietly coercive. Against this repeated architecture, the sinuous stalks and the ember-red flowering shrub erupt as living counterpoints—gestural, unruly, and insistently present—suggesting nature’s impulse to proliferate beyond containment. The subdued greys and violets hold the scene in a dusk-like suspension, while the saturated greens and reds pulse with latent vitality, turning the work into a meditation on captivity and resilience, taxonomy and tenderness, pattern and breath.







