Four pieces — 2026
I am drawn to invisible structure. To the fields that govern how things move without any single thing knowing the whole. To the fact that a landscape can be fully described by a set of equations and still be discovered rather than known.
These four pieces describe systems — terrain, flow, orientation, probability — that exist as rules before they exist as images. The image is what happens when the rule meets the canvas.
Topographic contour map of an invented landscape. Marching squares algorithm, 45 contour levels, aged survey paper. The terrain doesn't exist — the map is the only form it has. Features appeared that weren't designed: saddles, ridges, basins emerging from the mathematics of overlapping Gaussian peaks.
Quasi-horizontal lines traced through a 2D interference pattern of sine waves. Spacing reflects local density — where waves align, lines compress into mass; where they cancel, ground shows through. Light lines on dark ground.
A scaling error in the accumulation formula. Dense zones receive nearly 1,200 overlapping lines per column instead of 70; the interference pattern collapses into tonal masses. Kept because it became something else — closer to painting than drawing. A face appeared that was not put there.
58×58 grid of directed line segments obeying a vector field: five vortices of varying handedness and strength, plus a slow diagonal drift. Hue encodes angle across the full color wheel; brightness encodes magnitude. Each mark knows only its local condition.
The word "here" layered over thirteen alternatives at opacity proportional to their probability of having been selected instead. The chosen word sits above the mass from which it was drawn. "Now," "real," "alive," "gone" — all the near-misses remain. The most honest piece in the series.