Plankton in Dark Ocean

“Plankton in Dark Ocean' drifts between vision and memory, holding the space where perception meets emotion.”

Plankton in Dark Ocean began as an experiment in surrender. A wet canvas, a length of twine dipped in black oil, and no plan. Just motion, intuition, and the permission to let something unspoken emerge.

This 5ft x 4ft oil painting captures a layered rhythm—black, white, and gray tones sweeping and colliding across the surface like tides shifting below the surface of consciousness. It’s a piece shaped by gesture and gravity, by instinct rather than instruction. The process is messy, unpredictable, and oddly meditative. At times, the twine pulls tight; other times it slacks and loops. What’s left behind is motion suspended in form.

The resulting shapes feel like plankton—tiny forces of life adrift in vast darkness. Not figurative, but suggestive. Glimpses of light against the deep. To me, it speaks of fragility and persistence, of life moving in unseen currents. It’s less about what you see and more about what starts to unfold the longer you sit with it.

There’s no single meaning here. Like the ocean itself, the painting changes depending on how you approach it. One moment it feels peaceful, the next electric. I think that’s what abstraction does best—it mirrors you back to yourself, without telling you what to think.

Plankton in Dark Ocean isn’t a statement. It’s a pause. A place to drift, and maybe to surface with something unexpected.