16”x20” Mixed Media
The ocean floor as memory: dark, encrusted, alive with what time leaves behind. A mass of layered texture rises from a deep blue ground. Built up like coral, like sediment, like something the water made slowly without anyone watching. Around it, washers float in the blue, their patina the green of old bronze, their centers rusted open like small wounds or portholes. Copper dust halos the whole form, warm against the cool depth. This is how certain memories live — vast and dim and luminous at once, surfacing whole from somewhere you didn’t know you’d kept them.
16”x20” Mixed Media
The ocean floor as memory: dark, encrusted, alive with what time leaves behind. A mass of layered texture rises from a deep blue ground. Built up like coral, like sediment, like something the water made slowly without anyone watching. Around it, washers float in the blue, their patina the green of old bronze, their centers rusted open like small wounds or portholes. Copper dust halos the whole form, warm against the cool depth. This is how certain memories live — vast and dim and luminous at once, surfacing whole from somewhere you didn’t know you’d kept them.