Two fields of colour in tension: a soft, insistent pink against a warmth that pushes up from beneath. And over it all, marks that look like letters, like a name, like something being written and erased at the same time.

This is a painting about gesture. About the line that hesitates before it commits. The surface carries the memory of every correction, every second thought.

Nothing here is accidental. But nothing here is finished either. That is exactly the point.