Firing in Ten Directions Print

‘Firing in Ten Directions’ moves like electricity caught mid-motion. Gold and silver pour out from a center, branching into thin, sharp lines and wide, looping cells. The metallics swirl together but never fully mix — they edge each other, pull apart, and meet again. Against the white canvas, the shapes feel alive. They stretch, split, and reach, with little pockets of empty space letting the whole thing breathe.

The branching feels very neurodivergent to me. It’s how a thought starts in one place and then fires in ten directions at once. The gold is warmth and urgency. The silver is structure and logic. They’re not fighting. They’re coexisting in the same burst. There’s beauty in the unpredictability of it. No straight lines, no perfect symmetry, just momentum and pattern finding its own path. It doesn’t need to be contained to be powerful.