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Description
The universe isn’t printed from a map here. It flows.
Green and white streams collide against the black; orange is just a fiery fracture. Bubbles and cells of color left behind by drying paint—a dance that can never be repeated with the same flow.
From a distance, a dark wall with a living core.
Up close, craters, a pearlescent stroke, places where whiteness has cut into the green.
Into the living room and bedroom. Toward anthracite, metal, dark wood. Side lighting brings out the depth of the black.
An original.