STAR DUST

Mixed media, acrylic, epoxy resin, glitter on framed canvas We are all made of what exploded before us. In *Star Dust*, a stream of blue and white energy tears diagonally through space. A jet of cosmic matter, the trail of an ancient explosion still in motion millennia later. It does not merely pass through the canvas; it possesses it. In electric blue and milky white, it pulses with an urgency that contrasts with the absolute silence of the black background. On the left, a massive, cratered moon dominates the composition with its silent mass—a gray giant with an ancient surface, an impassive witness to everything that has crossed its sky. It does not move. It has no need to move. It is the rest of the universe that orbits around her. In the lower right, a smaller, bluish-silver planet is bathed in the nebula’s vapors—a world still young, still soft, still in the process of deciding what it will become. Veils of white gas wrap around it like a cosmic swaddling cloth. A perfect white line cuts diagonally across the entire composition—a comet or a ray, a boundary or a path. It splits the chaos in two with surgical precision, reminding us that even in the most utter disorder, there is a trajectory. The cobalt-blue frame surrounding the canvas intensifies the coldness of the scene—the color of deep night, of airless space, of what exists beyond what we can breathe. *Star Dust* is a humble and dizzying reminder: everything we are was once a star. And everything we will become will become one again.