Techno-Futurism
The Melding of Art and Technology
All artwork printed on archival canvas
Limited Edition of 5 - (Ready to Hang)
Certificate of Authenticity issued for each Limited-Edition artwork purchased
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True Confessions
These four works are not diagrams. They are confessions—curved, coded, and quietly volatile. Each line loops like a whispered secret, each orbit a ritual of return. Teal and rust, black and ember—they don’t harmonize, they haunt. The circles are not planets. They are eyes. Witnesses. Triggers. The compositions suggest motion, yes—but it’s the kind that leaves residue. A memory of impact. A trace of something that almost escaped. This is not abstraction. It’s architecture for the unseen. A choreography of forces that never quite resolve. You don’t look at these pieces. You overhear them.
The Gravity Lie
Echo Vector
The Witness Spiral
Perigee’s Alibi
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Title: The Gravity Lie - 40x40 inches - $1850.00
They told me gravity was truth. That it pulls what matters toward the center. But I’ve seen the center. It’s hollow. The orange tension? Manufactured. The blue denial? Beautiful. I stayed in orbit because falling felt too honest. And honesty—well, that’s the most dangerous force of all.
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Title: Echo Vector - 40x40 inches - $1850.00
You think motion is freedom? It’s repetition with better lighting. I traced the same path again and again, hoping it would mean something different. The gradients lied to me. Said I was evolving. But I was echoing. A vector with no origin. Just a memory pretending to be a map.
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Title: The Witness Spiral - 40x40 inches - $1850.00
I didn’t ask to see it. The collision. The confession. The way the black line snapped like a promise. I looped around it for years, pretending not to notice. But the circles—they watched. They recorded. They never blinked. I’m not the story. I’m the spiral it left behind.
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Title: Perigee’s Alibi - 40x40 inches - $1850.00
I was closest to the truth once. Brushed against it like a shoulder in a crowded room. But proximity isn’t intimacy, is it? The teal line—don’t trust it. It curves too easily. The red? That’s where I bled the story. You want the alibi? Fine. I was orbiting regret at the time. Fast enough to blur. Slow enough to remember.
