Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Echoes began as an exploration of memory — how it softens, shifts, and sometimes returns in fragments. I was thinking about the way moments linger, not in perfect clarity, but as blurred impressions layered over time.
Working with soft beige, earthy browns, and bold strokes of black and white, I let the textures build gradually — like something being uncovered rather than painted. The horizontal forms suggest a distant horizon or perhaps a fading cityscape, while the downward drips feel like reflections caught in water — fleeting, uncertain, yet grounded in something real.
This piece is about what remains after something passes. In creating it, I was reflecting on silence, stillness, and the way the past can reappear when we least expect it. I hope Echoes invites others to pause and connect with their own inner landscapes — with the quiet spaces where meaning often hides.
Echoes began as an exploration of memory — how it softens, shifts, and sometimes returns in fragments. I was thinking about the way moments linger, not in perfect clarity, but as blurred impressions layered over time.
Working with soft beige, earthy browns, and bold strokes of black and white, I let the textures build gradually — like something being uncovered rather than painted. The horizontal forms suggest a distant horizon or perhaps a fading cityscape, while the downward drips feel like reflections caught in water — fleeting, uncertain, yet grounded in something real.
This piece is about what remains after something passes. In creating it, I was reflecting on silence, stillness, and the way the past can reappear when we least expect it. I hope Echoes invites others to pause and connect with their own inner landscapes — with the quiet spaces where meaning often hides.