



A weathered, altar-like panel holds a fragile anatomy of gesture—splintered wooden elements and tawny, sketch-like marks suspended over a pale ground—where the eye reads both wing and wound in the same breath. The composition balances heaviness and lift: rough timber presses horizontally like a mute barricade, while the central, sweeping form arcs upward as if trying to unfasten itself from gravity and time. Subtle punctuations of raised studs become quiet constellations, suggesting memory pinned in place, a private reliquary where decay is not failure but evidence of having endured. In its restrained palette of bone, rust, and ash, the work stages a meditation on resilience: the beauty of what remains after impact, and the tenderness of repair that never fully disappears.







