Here, form doesn’t arrive—it drifts. Flyer moves like fabric in slow water, folding into itself, never quite deciding whether it’s petal or flesh, sky or skin. It’s the memory of touch before the hand makes contact—the moment where anticipation is more vivid than fulfillment.
The colors don’t sit still. Lemon, blush, violet—each tint sliding past the next like heat caught between breaths. The edges pulse softly, not with clarity but with wanting, with the slow pleasure of forms almost remembering what they used to be.
This isn’t a painting of things—it’s a painting of longing. Flyer is suspended in that delicate moment before something becomes itself, stretching that suspension as far as the surface will allow. The brush doesn’t describe—it lingers.
2020Acrylic on Canvas
24" x 36"
Available $2,370
