A scribble made large enough to become a landscape.

Found on a huge viaduct pillar in Genova, this image looks as though someone took a marker and simply refused to stop. Fast horizontal lines, acid green washes and pale stripes run across the concrete, interrupted by one dark purple-black line cutting through the surface like a shadow that arrived too late.

It is rough, direct and almost nervous.

The green is what really makes it strange. Too fresh for concrete, too artificial for nature, somewhere between highlighter ink, traffic light, summer grass and a mild visual warning. The colour seems to keep moving, even though the surface itself is completely still.

Then comes that dark line. It interrupts the green and pulls the whole image sideways, creating a little depth in what could otherwise have been nothing more than a collection of marks.

Nothing here is decorative in the traditional sense. There is no obvious subject, no careful composition, just speed, repetition, pressure and colour behaving slightly out of control. And somehow, the result starts to feel like a landscape.

The setting makes it even better. Heavy concrete, traffic overhead and urban noise, with this almost hallucinogenic field of green lines underneath it all. Genova, clearly not whispering.

When translated into textiles, we kept that same sense of speed. The fine lines create a graphic rhythm across the fabric, while the darker interruption breaks up the repetition and gives the print a little tension as the textile folds and moves.

A marker drawing with the confidence of a landscape and the patience of someone who clearly had none.