Ash Orchard 2, Day 55.
It is a mark-making piece built from impact, hesitation, and return. Dense black gestures surge across a pale ground like a thicket of charred branches, interrupted by sharp gray sweeps that feel scraped, carved, or cut through the surface. Warm rust and ember tones flare at the edges, not as decoration, but as heat—small survivals inside the soot.
The image doesn’t describe a place so much as an action: layering, dragging, striking, lifting. Every stroke keeps its own voice—some violent, some whisper-thin—so the composition reads like a record of movement, where the “orchard” is made of decisions, and the “ash” is what’s left after intensity.