Unfinished Rhapsody

A splash of color from the end of the world. A step into half-seen faces, indistinct scenes, signals—red and blue waves pulsing like a Wi-Fi symbol or a pendulum keeping time for the indecisive apocalypse. It’s okay. Everything will be okay in the end, and if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

Unpredictability, immediacy, and rawness—and yet, the passage of time, journey, and transition. Transported wet, its surface still malleable and open to the environment, the final glazing layer was textured and painted with bubble wrap in anticipation of the marks that the journey itself would leave on the still-wet retouch varnish. It serves as a record of motion, presence, and physicality. Nothing is ever absolute, nothing is ever truly finished.

Unsigned on the front (though discreetly signed in charcoal on the side for curatorial demands), it stands as an “underpainting” in perpetual flux—an unfinished yet complete piece, where process and finality coexist in open dialogue. Closed to be opened. Opened to be closed.

One way or another, everything is an underpainting, and that’s okay.