Gallery Collection 71 - ‘Incision’

Explore ‘Incision’ a field of thick, white impasto combed into overlapping circles and arcs. It looks like fingerprints, tree rings, sonar pulses, or the swirling plaster on a ceiling you stare at during dissociation. The texture is relentless. Every ridge catches shadow. Then three lines of acid green cut diagonally across it. They are sharp, intentional, and slightly uneven. Like they were dragged with a stick or the edge of a card. That green is the only color in the whole piece, and it does not ask permission. 

Against all the white noise, Gallery Collection 71 is a sensory breakthrough. The white texture is static. It is the constant background hum of a busy room, the fluorescent buzz, the overlapping conversations, the internal monologue that never shuts up. It is masking made visible: repetitive, controlled, socially acceptable patterns that hide everything underneath. The three green lines are the moment your real thought breaks through. An intrusive insight. A special interest. A truth you cannot swallow. They are urgent and electric because they have to be. They are cutting across all that careful regulation to say one thing clearly. The green is not pretty. It is alive. It is the part of you that refuses to be smoothed over, even when the world wants everything quiet, white, and textured the same way.