Untitled (The Puppet Masters)

The composition reads like a submerged allegory, where bodies, masks, and ritual implements drift through a bruised wash of blues and greys, suggesting memory as a tide that both carries and corrodes. A pale, reclining figure stretches across the upper register like a dormant conscience, its tethering line knitting together scenes of procession, sacrifice, and spectacle into a single network of obligation. The repeated cords—red as wound and lineage—pull the eye through shifting scales, collapsing private anguish into public ceremony and exposing how communities choreograph control through myth and performance. Light is withheld rather than granted, so that each vignette emerges as if excavated, implicating the viewer in the uneasy labor of witnessing.