THE EYE OF HORUS

Mixed media—acrylic, epoxy resin, iridescent glitter on copper-framed canvas The universe is not blind. It has always been watching. In *The Eye of Horus*, a single eye floats at the center of the cosmos, its gray-blue iris encircled by a cobalt-blue electric halo, a black pupil as deep as a hole in the fabric of space. It does not blink. It does not look away. It stares with the patience of that which has existed since before time. Around it, white and gray nebulae stretch out like tentacles of mist, interstellar matter suspended in space, its gaseous ghosts drifting among the stars. The iridescent specks lining the black background twinkle like thousands of stars too small to have a name, but real enough to be there. Always there. It stares right at you no matter where you are! The white cosmic clouds further captivate the eye, their invisible vertical axis connecting the gaze to the cosmos below, as if the eye were the source of all light—or its sole witness. In the lower left corner, spilling out of the copper-colored frame, a sandy, turquoise planet escapes the composition—a world half-visible, half-gone, bearing on its surface lightning-struck trees or veins of cooled lava. It, too, is being watched. It knows it. On the right, behind the frame, translucent organic forms seem etched into the very fabric of the canvas. Spectral presences, echoes of another dimension that shines through. The Eye of Horus is a work about cosmic consciousness—about the idea that the universe is not an empty space we pass through, but rather a gaze we meet.