In Whispered Grounds, form returns through the quiet act of uncovering. Layers of paper are sanded, stripped, and peeled back until what remains feels half-found, half-remembered. Lines and shapes emerge only to dissolve again, creating murmurs of geometry that hover between order and drift. The surface carries both the trace of removal and the tenderness of what endures—like faint echoes across time. Colors stay subdued—drawn from dust, ash, and faded earth—with subtle blues and deep burgundies appearing like traces of nature remembered, grounding the compositions in stillness. Each work becomes a whispered negotiation between structure and surrender, where silence finds texture and meaning unfolds through the act of erasure.