METEOR

Mixed media, acrylic, glitter, and textured materials on a framed silver-fabric canvas It doesn’t just arrive. It crashes in. In *Meteor*, everything is brutal, irreversible, magnificent movement. The meteor bursts forth from the upper right corner like a tear in the fabric of space: toxic yellow-green, deep teal, incandescent orange. Its tail stretches out into flowing tongues of fire that literally spill out of the frame, defying the canvas’s boundaries, refusing to be contained. The painting explodes beyond its own borders, and that is precisely the point. The meteor’s core is a dense, compact, burning ball of orange and light. Behind it, trails of white vapor stretch out like an atmospheric wake, the mark of something traveling too fast for space to have time to close in. In the lower left, a yellow-green planet, textured like ancient mineral skin, waits, motionless. It cannot escape. It does not even try. The impact may be inevitable, or perhaps the meteor will pass right by, grazing without destroying, changing everything without touching. The silver fabric frame and the electric blue background anchor this cosmic violence within something almost decorative, reminding us that catastrophe and beauty are not mutually exclusive. *Meteor* speaks to what happens without warning. To the collision that redraws everything: trajectories, surfaces, possibilities.