This one wasn’t planned.
Pigment was thrown onto water without a map — no color theory, no forcing, no second-guessing. Just movement. Later, while scanning the prints, one composition surfaced.
A field of wildflowers, if painted by Joan Miró.
It felt like spring.
Field Trip is a little psychedelic, a little sun-drenched, a little elsewhere — umbrellas by the sea, fruit stands in heat, a meadow behaving wildly.
Hand-marbled artwork, translated to silk.