Bull 22

A faceted, origami-like horse bends into itself, its body partitioned by decisive black contours that read like both anatomy and architecture—an engineered creature caught in a moment of quiet strain. The pale, mottled interior surface suggests weathered stone or lunar skin, while the surrounding field of dense green brushwork closes in like foliage, turning nature into a textured pressure rather than a refuge. This tension between the animal’s tender gesture and its crystalline construction evokes a meditation on domestication and resilience: vitality rendered as a diagram, emotion held together by seams. Light seems to skim the planes rather than illuminate them, emphasizing the idea of presence as something assembled—fragile, precise, and enduring.