Instinct 1

Suspended within a circular field, the composition reads like a private cosmology where disparate fragments—wilted flora, a tethered vessel, and a small bird held in mid-gesture—hover between care and captivity. The meticulous pointillist textures and stark monochrome carve the space into shifting wedges of night and light, suggesting memory as a stage that edits, isolates, and repeats its symbols. Peripheral emblems—a cropped torso, a vigilant canine head, a silent jar—operate as witnesses at the edge of consciousness, sharpening the work’s tension between tenderness and unease. What emerges is an elegy of transformation: the delicate body of nature and the self rendered as specimens, preserved by attention yet haunted by what must fall away.