Coagulate
18 × 24 × 1.5 Inches, Acrylic & Oil on Canvas - 2024
I form where fracture meets air.
I do not bleed out—
I build.
Pigment thickens, light dulls to matte,
as skin begins to speak.
Every motion hardens into memory,
every scrape becomes structure.
I take in the world only to seal it shut,
to turn reaction into shape.
Rust, flesh, paint—all of us learning
how to keep ourselves intact.
This is not defense.
It is design.
The art of closing just enough
to go on creating.
Collector Notes:
Coagulate traces the delicate threshold between exposure and endurance; the moment when matter, or the self, begins to seal against the world. The surface recalls oxidized metal and weathered stone, yet its matte stillness feels almost biological, like skin closing around a wound. Subtle scratches and tonal shifts map the slow choreography of protection: where air meets pigment, where reaction becomes repair. The work suggests that what gives us patina also keeps us alive—that every layer of closure is a kind of survival, a quiet refusal to dissolve. Here, the act of hardening is not denial but continuation: an elegy for permeability, and a hymn to the beauty of staying whole.
18 × 24 × 1.5 Inches, Acrylic & Oil on Canvas - 2024
I form where fracture meets air.
I do not bleed out—
I build.
Pigment thickens, light dulls to matte,
as skin begins to speak.
Every motion hardens into memory,
every scrape becomes structure.
I take in the world only to seal it shut,
to turn reaction into shape.
Rust, flesh, paint—all of us learning
how to keep ourselves intact.
This is not defense.
It is design.
The art of closing just enough
to go on creating.
Collector Notes:
Coagulate traces the delicate threshold between exposure and endurance; the moment when matter, or the self, begins to seal against the world. The surface recalls oxidized metal and weathered stone, yet its matte stillness feels almost biological, like skin closing around a wound. Subtle scratches and tonal shifts map the slow choreography of protection: where air meets pigment, where reaction becomes repair. The work suggests that what gives us patina also keeps us alive—that every layer of closure is a kind of survival, a quiet refusal to dissolve. Here, the act of hardening is not denial but continuation: an elegy for permeability, and a hymn to the beauty of staying whole.