

A lone, crouched figure is suspended in an amber field of perforations and faint concentric halos, as if the body has been set adrift inside a quiet, engineered cosmos. Bands of turquoise, vermilion, and shadow sweep across the form like slipped frames of time, turning the skin into a moving archive where identity is continuously rewritten. The poised fingertip—hovering between touch and withdrawal—suggests an intimate negotiation with absence, each small void becoming both a wound and a portal. In this tension between tender vulnerability and optical velocity, the work meditates on how we locate ourselves when the world is made of repeating patterns and disappearing points.