Suminagashi
Suminagashi slows time. I watch the first traces unfurl, one by one, as if the water were writing without words. The silence, here, has a pulse.
I prepare the ink. Air and water decide. The image happens; afterward, it remains.
Suminagashi slows time. I watch the first traces unfurl, one by one, as if the water were writing without words. The silence, here, has a pulse.
I prepare the ink. Air and water decide. The image happens; afterward, it remains.