Raw Form III

No gesture here consents to be single. Each arrives as a sheaf, many fine lines moving as one, so that what began as a single motion has multiplied before it lands.

Measure is abandoned. Profusion takes the surface entirely, filling it with a fertility that has no interest in being counted. Sweeps stack and cross. Verticals rise and splay. Nothing waits its turn.

Watching order lose has its own exhilaration: the exhilaration of grass, of water, of anything that multiplies because multiplying is simply what it does. Deep earth reds give that abundance somewhere to happen and keep it from floating free of the ground.

Movement fills the air around it, warming a space and lifting it without ever tipping into noise.