Untitled 12 (Eyes of the Tree)

In a wind-scoured, ochre dusk, the figures merge into a single, many-limbed body—part human, part tree—so that labor becomes indistinguishable from nature’s own anatomy. A heavy wrench is lifted like an icon of industry, yet the ground’s scattered stones and the flocking silhouettes overhead suggest a world quietly witnessing its own reshaping. The branching lines above echo the splayed arms below, turning the composition into a tense diagram of extraction and entanglement, where power is exercised but also absorbed. The palette’s dusted gold and bruised charcoal clouds hold the scene in suspended breath, as if the landscape itself is deciding what it will remember.