Collector Notes:
In Chrysalis, I, repetition becomes ritual. Across fields of slate pigment, rows of linear marks accumulate — gestures both deliberate and meditative. What began as a record of days evolves into a quiet architecture of transformation. The process is intimate and physical — paint layered, scraped, and renewed — echoing the slow, unseen work of change. Rather than penance, it speaks of persistence; of the human instinct to keep marking, to keep moving, even when light has not yet returned.
Collector Notes:
In Chrysalis, I, repetition becomes ritual. Across fields of slate pigment, rows of linear marks accumulate — gestures both deliberate and meditative. What began as a record of days evolves into a quiet architecture of transformation. The process is intimate and physical — paint layered, scraped, and renewed — echoing the slow, unseen work of change. Rather than penance, it speaks of persistence; of the human instinct to keep marking, to keep moving, even when light has not yet returned.