Chicken 1

Set within a generous field of white, the small procession of inky birds becomes a quiet choreography of belonging—each body reduced to a single, velvety gesture, yet individualized by the tilt of a head or the pause of a step. The pale crimson sun hovers like a soft pulse of time, its warmth counterpointing the cool blacks and turning the surrounding emptiness into luminous air rather than absence. Scattered specks read as both earth and constellation, collapsing ground and sky into one contemplative plane where the everyday ritual of foraging takes on the tenderness of a shared pilgrimage. In this economy of marks, silence is the subject: a meditation on community, vulnerability, and the fragile insistence of life moving forward together.