Still Points 

Each time it meets paper, ink pools, stains, feathers at an edge; it passes from opacity into translucency, from weight into something barely there. The paper absorbs, resists, distorts — and finally, holds.

Here, difference is amplified. A grey carries distance; a black gathers weight; a barely perceptible trace holds both presence and mass. Forms gather and disperse, drift into one another, break apart and re-form; texture becomes movement and stillness.

Space. Breath. A subtle shift into presence, an infinitesimal drift into absence. And somewhere else, a return.

These works have come to inhabit a specific language — not as an aesthetic programme, but as states of presence. In the eye, in memory, in what lingers after looking.

Monochromata.