Deep indigo and midnight blue settle across the surface like sky after the last light fades. Layers of dyed cheesecloth and acrylic paint create a quiet, atmospheric ground — textured like woven dusk. From this depth, suspended loops of reclaimed fabric rise and drift, each anchored with a metal washer that glimmers like a tiny moon. Together, they form a field of constellations and echoes: a night sky made of memory, fabric, and light.

Night is the counterpart to Day — born from the same gesture language but rooted in stillness, shadow, and star-quiet depth.

The piece begins with deep blue pigment layered over dyed cheesecloth, building a ground that feels like velvet sky. Twine stretches across the surface like invisible threads of connection, structure, or celestial mapping. Cut fabric loops — each one hand-placed, each one weighted with a washer — hang delicately above the surface, catching glimmers of light like lanterns in the dark or whispered signals in the quiet.

One golden loop rests among the blues, like a single spark, a horizon light, or the moon rising in a field of twilight.

A meditation on the spaciousness of night, the beauty of stillness, and the quiet radiance that appears when everything slows down.

The companion to Day — where one breathes light in, the other lets the world exhale into wonder.