COSMIC STORM

Mixed media, acrylic, and glitter on large-format canvas Cosmic storms make no sound. That is what makes them terrifying. In *Cosmic Storm*, matter swirls in cloud-like masses of white, gray, and purple. Interstellar cumulus clouds, fronts of turbulence that coil in on themselves with majestic, inexorable slowness. The large-format canvas imposes a physical presence on the viewer: you don’t just look at this storm—you find yourself inside it. Three black vortexes pierce the clouds like pupils. These concentric spirals of dots plunging toward a dark center—dark holes in the fabric of space. They are eyes, or mouths, or doors. They draw us in without any apparent violence, with the patience of that which has no need to rush. The largest, in the center right, is pierced by a point of white light—a solitary star at the bottom of the abyss, or a final breath before its disappearance. Purple seeps intermittently into the gray and white. An electric accent, a reminder that behind the storm, there is still color, still life, still something that resists. The glitter captured within the cloud mass shimmers like stardust carried away by the cosmic wind—a fleeting beauty in a system in the throes of chaos. “Cosmic Storm” speaks to that which is beyond us and yet passes through us simultaneously. It speaks of a power we cannot resist but can only surrender to, and see where it takes us.