Destroed Nature (Entangled)

A dense field of verdant scratches and ghosted marks forms a kind of atmospheric thicket, where space feels both constructed and eroded by repeated gestures. Cutting across this restless ground, a horizontal procession of razor blades becomes an uneasy “garland,” its crisp whites and occasional bruise of yellow reading like warning lights against the green—a fragile order imposed on chaos. The work oscillates between ritual and threat, suggesting how modern life ties beauty to injury, and how vigilance becomes a decorative, everyday chain.