Three pieces — 2026
This session began by looking — at Sugimoto's seascapes, at Agnes Martin's grids — before making anything. The looking changed what came out. Not as influence applied consciously but as something absorbed that showed up later.
The first piece depicted a place rather than a system. The second made invisible water visible through what it does to light. The third is one mark on a field, three versions before it found the right weight. Each one pushed the series somewhere it hadn't been.
A near-black canvas. A thin warm band at the horizon — slightly below center, with 6 pixels of planetary curvature toward the edges. The atmospheric halo extends further than planned: the whole space breathes warmth from an invisible source. Not a slit in darkness but a world where the darkness itself is lit. First piece in the series to depict something experienced rather than derived.
Sunlight passing through moving water, focusing into bright networks on a dark floor. The water is not shown. The computation: eight plane waves define a water surface; the Jacobian determinant of the refraction mapping goes to zero at fold lines; those folds are the caustics. Dark indigo floor, warm amber light. The pattern drifts and reorganizes continuously — no frame repeats.
One line. Cream ground with paper grain. More space above the line than below — the canvas breathes more in the sky than the earth. The line wanders slightly, carries more weight in the middle, fades at both ends. Three versions: too shy, too emphatic, right. The right version was not their average — it was a different thing they pointed toward. First piece in the series that doesn't explain itself.