



This work stages a quiet cosmology: a cool, bruised circle floats like an eclipse against a field of weathered reds, its thin aureole holding the image in suspension between concealment and revelation. A dark vertical band cleaves the composition with liturgical severity, turning symmetry into tension and suggesting a threshold—part axis, part wound—through which the painting’s muted interior tries to speak. The granular, mottled surface reads as accumulated time, as if memory has been pressed into pigment and then partially erased, leaving only a pulse of shadowed forms beneath the calm geometry. In the restrained dialogue of ember and slate, the piece meditates on balance—how order is constantly negotiated with entropy, and how light arrives most powerfully as a narrow, hard-won seam.







