This image barely settles into a subject. It slips instead of speaks. Yellow forms drift across a field of green and white, as if the wall is caught mid-movement — pigment still deciding what it wants to become. You can sense the gesture of a hand, the drag of a brush, the moment where intention dissolves into motion. Nothing is sharp, nothing insists on outline. It’s not an image of something — it’s the memory of seeing, slowed down. A wall that doesn’t describe a place, but a state: between focus and disappearance
