The first work in the series. A surface saturated edge to edge in ochre, then marked with fire — intimate in scale and quietly intense. It opens the formal investigation the larger series carries forward.

The formal opposite of Hormuz: an open ivory field held in restraint, with the burning intensifying into three scorched concentric circles at the center. The form reads as both target and ripple, both wound and water-ring.

he largest work in the series. A circular form built from the perimeter inward, its palette deepening from pale yellow ochre at the rim through umber and sienna into a burned charcoal core — at once an aerial view of a contested basin and a wound. The gradient from beauty into ruin is the work.

The most process-intensive piece in the series. The paper itself was made from scratch — Kozo bark gathered, beaten, bleached, blended, and pulled into long wave-like sheets with extended pulps that evoke the moving surface of the Strait. These are not petal-forms but flowing, directional strips: the Strait itself as material, as memory, as form. Ochre pigments from the Strait are applied during the making process, so color is inseparable from surface. The work is simultaneously a representation of the Strait and a piece of it — water made into paper made into art. I

Available The largest and most formally resolved piece in the series to date. Seven concentric rings of burned paper radiate outward from a single burned flower at the center — a symbol from Persian poetry of beauty, burned. The rings carry multiple simultaneous readings: a target, a radar screen, the cross-section of a mangrove tree, water disturbed at its center by an impact and rippling outward. The white ground between the rings is as active as the burned marks themselves — the space between the circles is what was not destroyed, which is how survival looks