Purity says nothing. The wound gives the frame its voice. Rain corrodes the exposed metal until it begins to speak, bleeding color onto a surface that would otherwise remain silent. I was drawn to corrosion as a form of authorship: the idea that sorrow does not simply erode, but inscribes.

A forensic exploration of industrial textures and severe tonal compression. These fragments represent a visual response to the monolithic weight of Berlin’s techno landscape.