etching
Etching is my quiet confrontation: Wax grounds the plate, needle scratches secrets, acid devours to reveal. Ink pools in the grooves, pressed to paper in a single breath—yielding skies that rumble, fields that root. Here, technique meets inquiry; each plate a question from history, answered in variable states. Wander these: From Graan's evolving clouds to Penestin's red-earth bite. For the collector: Hold the acid's edge. For the teacher: Trace it with students, feel the burn of becoming.
