At the threshold between two scales of existence, the ancient meets the momentary. Shifting masses of blue-grey open like a canyon carved over millennia, while fractured passages of amber and rust break through the darker forms like heat rising through stone, or light catching something that has waited an eternity to be seen.

Built through layers of paint, collage, abrasion, and excavation, the surface carries traces of its own making. Veils of colour are worn back and reworked, revealing histories beneath histories—an echo of the geological forces that shape the land itself.

Against this immensity, a human life is scarcely a breath. Yet we remain drawn to these vast processes, bearing witness to forces that were shaping the earth long before our arrival and will continue long after we are gone.

To stand before deep time is to be humbled, yet somehow reassured. We are here, briefly and beautifully woven into an unfolding with no beginning we can name and no end we can imagine.