This work stages a slow collision between atmosphere and earth: a pale, bruised sky hovers above a dense seam of blackened pigment that reads like a scar across the horizon. The surface is built in stratified veils—chalky whites, soot-like blues, and oxidized rust—so that light feels trapped and then released in small eruptions, as if memory were breaking through sediment. Drips and abrasions complicate any stable ground, turning the lower terracotta field into a register of time, weathering, and quiet resilience. What emerges is a landscape-like abstraction that speaks less of place than of aftermath—where erosion becomes a language for endurance.