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“In silence, everything finds its own order.”
Rounded, weighty abstract forms stack, separate, and lean against one another across the composition. Black, grey, ivory, and rust brown are arranged into restrained blocks of color, creating a slow and steady rhythm within an apparently motionless structure.
Inspired by the quiet order found among stones, architectural fragments, and natural forms. By rearranging different weights and scales, the work searches for a kind of balance that requires no language to sustain itself.
“Emptiness, too, has a shape of its own.”
An irregular grey-white form is encircled by dark curves, suspended within a geometric field of rust brown, black, and warm ivory. Rough textures collide with softened lines, creating a subtle balance between solid form and empty space.
Inspired by the hollows and outlines left behind by time. When what once filled a space disappears, its shape remains—like memory fading away while leaving behind an absence that cannot be filled.
“Some silences carry more weight than sound.”
A monumental grey-white form dominates the center of the composition, slowly enclosed by fields of black and rust brown. Dense textures and muted tones give the work an almost stone-like weight, allowing stillness itself to become the visual focus.
Inspired by emotions that resist being spoken. They make no sound, yet gradually accumulate through time until they take on a tangible weight and form of their own.
“When sound recedes, form begins to speak.”
Across the three works, grey-white, black, rust brown, and warm ivory create a unified visual language. Irregular forms are enclosed, assembled, and layered within geometric spaces, while restrained colors and rough textures give the triptych a quiet yet substantial presence.
Inspired by the way silence can be transformed into perceptible form. Moving through absence, order, and weight, the three works condense what cannot easily be spoken into abstract structures—when narrative and sound gradually fall away, form itself is what remains.
“The road continues, though the land has sunk beneath the water.”
A narrow road cuts through a desolate landscape submerged in water, where skeletal trees and remnants of fencing cast broken reflections across the surface. Faint traces of dark red interrupt the monochrome scene, leaving a subtle yet unsettling sense of life within the silence.
Inspired by flooded roads and landscapes slowly disappearing beneath water. A road usually promises arrival, but here it stretches toward an uncertain distance, becoming a metaphor for lost direction, departure, and the unknown.
“The tree keeps growing, while the names sink into time.”
Thick, twisted cypress trees loom over a silent cemetery, where scattered gravestones gradually dissolve into the grey-brown earth. Muted tones and heavy textures blur the boundaries between trees, land, and the remnants left behind.
Inspired by old cemeteries where cypress trees continue to grow beside weathered gravestones. The work sees the trees as silent witnesses, connecting the persistence of life with the gradual fading of memory.
“Time hangs from the branches, while the wind keeps its secrets.”
Ancient trees stretch across the composition, draped in curtains of Spanish moss, while distant buildings fade into the humid, hazy air. Layers of grey-green, aged gold, and ivory create a stillness softened by time.
Inspired by Spanish moss found throughout the wetlands and old gardens of the American South. Draped like veils over trees and architecture, it leaves the landscape suspended between reality and memory—a quiet trace of time passing slowly.
“From being restrained to no longer needing restraint to define freedom.”
Three horses emerge through powerful strokes of blue, orange-red, and teal, with the reins serving as a recurring symbol across all three works. Lowering, resisting, and crossing beyond create a continuous visual rhythm, moving the series from silent tension toward release.
Inspired by the shifting relationship between control and freedom. Through the shared imagery of horses and reins, the three works trace stages of endurance, resistance, and transcendence. Freedom is not simply the act of breaking restraint, but the moment beyond it—when direction becomes a choice of one’s own.
“Beyond the boundary, direction becomes your own.”
A black horse dissolves into sweeping strokes of teal, blue-grey, and warm ivory, its form shifting between abstraction and recognition. The reins remain visible, yet are gradually overtaken by surging color and movement.
Inspired by the freedom that follows release. Rather than focusing on direct resistance against restraint, the work turns its gaze beyond the boundary—when limitations lose their meaning, strength begins to find a direction of its own.
“True strength sometimes remains silent beneath restraint.”
A white horse lowers its head amid forceful strokes of black and white, while a deep blue rein cuts through the composition as a restrained yet striking focal point. Splattered and scraped textures suggest a quiet force that continues beneath the stillness.
Inspired by the idea of restrained strength. A lowered head does not mean surrender; beneath the rein, an unreleased will remains. Silence is only a temporary state in which strength is held.
“Some directions can only be reached by breaking against restraint.”
A black horse surges through sharp, forceful strokes, while a blazing orange-red rein cuts across its dark form. The stark clash of color and splattered marks holds restraint and resistance within the same charged moment.
Inspired by the tension between instinct and control. As restraint becomes more visible, resistance begins to take shape. The work captures the instant when the will starts to break free from a direction already chosen for it.
“Some farewells can only be carried together in silence.”
Three figures wrapped in black veils stand side by side, while translucent grey lines drift between them. Repeated silhouettes and falling fabric create a slow, solemn rhythm, like a procession passing without a sound.
Inspired by the silence shared between people experiencing loss together. Mourning no longer belongs to one person alone, but becomes something shared yet impossible to carry for another—walking together, while each bears their own grief.
“Some grief can only be gently covered.”
Layers of black and grey veils fall from the center of the composition, framed above by sharp, dark branches. Flowing folds contrast with jagged contours, giving the soft fabric an almost sculptural weight.
Inspired by the veil as both concealment and protection. It hides the face while sheltering emotion, holding what cannot be spoken within layer after layer of folds.
“Those who leave also leave a space behind.”
Black and grey fabric folds into abstract forms resembling architecture and an empty room, isolated against a quiet expanse of negative space. Sharp turns meet soft folds, transforming the fabric into a space seemingly built from memory.
Inspired by the emptiness left after someone is gone. Absence does not disappear with departure; over time, it becomes a lasting presence among rooms, objects, and memories.
“It travels toward the end, yet carries no one with it.”
Gothic architecture and a vintage hearse overlap in monochrome, while spires, the vehicle, and fractured textures are broken apart by dripping paint. Familiar forms become uncertain, like fragments of an old scene slowly disappearing from memory.
Inspired by the traditional funeral hearse and the “final journey” it represents. With no one inside, the work shifts its focus from death itself to absence—what remains is not the departed, but a farewell left unfinished.
“Some memories are bound tightly simply because we refuse to forget.”
Black, grey, and silver-white strands of hair twist and overlap around an oval mourning locket. Inside, gathered hair and pearls form an almost floral arrangement, preserving a sense of delicacy and fragility within the restrained monochrome palette.
Inspired by braided and carefully preserved mourning jewelry. Here, binding is both an act of preservation and a symbol of the connection between the present and the past—the more we try to hold on, the more deeply memory becomes entwined.
“The hair left behind preserves the touch of memory.”
Strands of hair in shifting shades coil and intertwine across the composition, gathering around an ornate oval mourning locket at the center. Delicately braided hair is preserved within it, creating a striking contrast between the softness of the strands and the hardness of the metal.
Inspired by the historical tradition of preserving a loved one’s hair as a keepsake. Hair does not disappear immediately with parting, becoming an intimate and enduring trace of someone who is no longer there.
“Some flowers need not wait to be received.”
A scattered bouquet rests across a dark tabletop, its white petals faintly glowing between muted blue and black. An empty chair and vessels recede into the background, allowing the silence after blooming to become the true subject of the scene.
Inspired by flowers that were never given. They once bloomed for someone, yet were never received—a reflection on waiting, disappointment, and the moment when feeling no longer needs an answer.
“Blooming and fading were never two separate things.”
Flowers emerge from the dark in different stages of life—petals unfolding, bowing, and falling, with warm whites and deep reds intertwined. Heavy, direct brushstrokes hold these shifting states together in a single suspended moment.
Inspired by the brief passage from bloom to decay. The work does not treat fading as the opposite of flowering, but places both within the same course of life—one half still opening, the other already gone.
“The most alluring things may also conceal danger.”
Deep purple berries hang among dense green leaves, while vivid blossoms contrast sharply with the dark fruit. Rich, almost unnatural colors and rough brushwork leave the plant suspended between temptation and danger.
Inspired by belladonna and nature’s contradiction of beauty and toxicity. The work conceals danger beneath abundant color, reflecting on the things that draw us closer yet can never truly be possessed.
“When the building disappears, the arch still preserves the shape of time.”
A fragmented Gothic pointed arch emerges from a weathered wall, its slender architectural lines contrasting with broad areas of peeling texture. Layers of brown, muted grey, and dark gold cover the surface, making the structure appear as though it is slowly being absorbed by the wall and by time itself.
Inspired by surviving arches and architectural fragments found in ancient Gothic structures. The work reduces an entire building to a solitary trace, using erosion, decay, and absence to explore how time transforms space—and how what once existed can endure in another form.