Her Horizon

A woman can fold her whole body away and still keep her eyes on the horizon. This work is about that kind of watching.

The figure fills the dark field like a soft white stone — knees drawn up, arms wrapped in, a shape as closed and compact as a body can make itself. Blurred, warm, almost breathing. She has taken the oldest protective posture there is. And yet she has not disappeared: at the edge of the darkness her face surfaces, and her eyes — the sharpest thing in the whole work — look out, steady and intense, impossible to look away from.

Above her burns a field of orange. The line where the black ends and the light begins — that is her horizon. She is not there yet. She is curled beneath it, in the dark, watching it. Whether she is gathering strength to rise toward it, or simply refuses to stop looking at it, the work does not say.

Look at the contrast between the body and the eyes: everything soft, guarded, folded — except the gaze. That is where the whole story lives. Some viewers see waiting. Some see endurance. Some see a dream kept safe through a hard time. All of these are right; the work holds them.

Her Horizon has a companion — His Horizon — and both belong to the cycle with Orbit of Presence, Gravity of the Unseen, Each in Their Own Orbit and The Parts We Are: works in which the human figure and the forces around it exchange places.

Offset print, hand-coloured with acrylic · 62 × 42 cm · 2022 · Limited edition of 10, signed · Certificate of authenticity · $400, shipping included · Shipped in a tube, requires framing

If you know what she is watching for — write to me and tell me. I answer personally.