Between Green and Red

She sits in profile, knees drawn to her chest, one hand resting against her shin — and she is cut clean down the middle. Green holds one side, cool and grounded; red holds the other, warm and urgent. A single white line runs through her skull, her spine, her folded legs, and never once wavers.

Behind her, squares nest inside squares, red bleeding into green and back again — the structures we build around our own contradictions, the routines and roles that give a divided self somewhere to sit quietly instead of tearing apart. This is the human figure as I use it: not a likeness, but a vehicle for something existential — the pull toward two true things at once, and the work of holding both without collapsing into either.

I won't tell you what the green means, or the red — that's yours to bring. What I can tell you is that this piece keeps revealing itself; the square you notice first this week won't be the one that catches you next year. From my series Entangled in Abstraction.

An original oil on canvas, 65 × 65 cm, 2023. Signed.