On Essence & Life Cannot Be Seen

Nine paintings. Nine textual fragments.

They turn toward what hovers at thresholds: dusk, womb, placenta, residue, container, sound, veil.

The paintings and writing emerge through somatic listening, dreams, dialogues with psyche. Each gesture seeks contact with what is invisible yet pressing, a psychic field that moves through body and breath as much as image.

Wombs and foetal curves. Traces of placenta. Threads of sound. Embers scattered too close to cloth. Tar-water in a tray. A trench dug around thought. Painters living inside the paintings, calling me through the veil.

Pink lines hold distance between forms that lean close. Yellow loops spark from below, threading what cannot meet. White orbs cross silent terrain. Fire warns against neglect. Black matter proves itself as prima materia. The vessel seals, holding space for change. Hum becomes clothing, then voice says: return to the frame. At the end, the painters shimmer through, still working, still calling.

These paintings do not resolve. They vibrate in different registers, tones and textures arriving without names. Recognition happens without knowing.

I paint as a way of listening. Holding open the space for what comes.