

A spectral horse surges across a muted field of charcoal air, its body built from scraped, luminous marks that read like memory abrading through darkness. The composition arrests motion at the threshold of escape—one foreleg extended into emptiness—while the faint, looping tracery around it suggests unseen currents, reins of thought, or the residue of a prior narrative. Light is not painted so much as unearthed: it clings to the animal’s flank in broken flecks, turning power into fragility and making the figure feel both monumental and vanishing. In this tension between force and erasure, the work becomes a meditation on control, instinct, and the uneasy dignity of endurance.







