This work unfolds as layered doorways that never fully align. Built through raised cement frames, Cubism here becomes construction rather than fragmentation. Unlike classical Cubism where form is broken to show multiple viewpoints, here Cubism behaves like construction. Each plane feels cast, weathered, and lived.

At its centre, a quiet blue recess draws the eye yet resists entry. The distance is not spatial, but emotional. It lives in the hesitation between approach and crossing.

What makes this work powerful is its tension. Everything feels near, almost within reach, yet withheld. It captures that fragile moment before change, where nearness exists without arrival. The distance here is not spatial. It is psychological. It is the distance between standing at a doorway and crossing it.

Each rectangular layer becomes a threshold of readiness. You move visually inward, but something holds you back. The thickness of the frames, the roughness of the edges, the weight of the material all resist passage. You are allowed to approach, but not to enter.

Everything in the composition is near. There is no vast empty space. The layers are tightly packed, almost pressing against each other. And yet, the centre remains unreachable. That is the paradox. Nearness without arrival.