
Yin-Yang
A vertical column of dense found wood, dark reddish-brown, carved by subtraction and varnished, raised on a thin black rod set into a square base swirled with red and black. As the eye climbs, grain stops being grain: faces surface, mouths open, bodies stack along the full height. The piercings run clean through the wood, an oval near the top, a long slit, two paired rounds that read as eyes. These voids open passages; the light moving through them gives the column a spectral presence, negative space owned as volume.
















Reading notes
One can read it as a memory that rises. The verticality has something ceremonial, as in Tim Whiten; the cavity here is a volume: what the wood no longer contains, the gaze holds. A piece that gives itself slowly.